Under Your Spell
by gillyflower34
Summary: When the dead started to invade the small ecovillage where Rowan grew up, her family and friends thought they were sick and tried to help them. The virus spread quickly and she was forced to run for her life. Story starts in Alexandria, shortly after Rick's group arrives. Rated M for eventual sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

Daryl sat quietly, drinking the wine Aaron poured for him while the man tipped the large bowl and dumped a giant mass of spaghetti onto his plate. Right when he was about to shovel in the first mouthfull, there was a knock on the door. Aaron got up to answer it while Eric commented that he wondered who it could be. Daryl felt his hand move down to his side, gripping his hunting knife since he wasn't allowed to walk around this town with his bow on him. These days, he was always ready for trouble. Ready for a fight. He reminded himself to ease up. _People who want to kill you, don't usually knock first._ Daryl took his hand off his knife, forcing himself to relax.

Daryl could hear Aaron's voice, the pitch of it rising in his excitement to see whoever was at the door of his house. Then there was a loud stomping, a thundering pounding that shook the dining table and made Daryl feel the need to put his hand on his knife again. But the noise was not being made by walkers.

Two of the largest dogs Daryl had ever seen came flying into the room. One was dark brown, almost black, with a soft pattern of lighter brown on it that reminded him of the markings you would see on a turtle's shell. The other beast was light tan, with a big black muzzle. The tan one leaped up, putting it's front paws on Eric's lap and licking his face, a long string of slobber dripping from one of side of it's massive mouth. Eric leaned back, his arms up, trying to ward off the unwanted affections of the large animal.

"Lily," Eric cried, "get off me, you are stomping on my balls!" He shoved at the dog, trying to make it mind. A loud whistle came ringing in from the front room. The tan dog leaped down, running for the source of the noise. The black dog followed quickly behind it. Daryl heard a woman's voice comanding the dogs, and then a clicking noise that he guessed was the same woman snapping her fingers.

Aaron appeared in the doorway. There was indeed a woman next to him. She was about the same height as Aaron, with long dark hair. When she saw Daryl, she gasped a little and moved behind Aaron, gripping his hand in hers. The big black dog at her side eyeballed the unfamiliar man, letting out a low warning growl. She took hold of the dog's collar to keep it from charging the stranger.

"Tank. Stay." She spoke to the black dog. The tan dog snaked around, getting closer to Daryl as it wagged it's tail. He kept his hands still and let the dog smell him. When it sat down on it's haunches, he gave it a gentle pat on the head. The woman seemed to be recovering from her inital shock. She peeked out around Aaron, her eyes wandering over the strange man at his table.

"Its alright," Aaron told her in the calming tone he often used on people that were lost or frightened. He coaxed her out from behind him, putting his arm around her waist to make her feel more secure. She kept a watchful eye on Daryl, letting go of her giant dog before she reached into the brightly colored messanger bag at her side. Pulling out a glass jar, she left Aaron's side to hand the item over to Eric. As she reached out, Daryl noticed her hands and wrists were covered in an intricate pattern of interlocking tattoos.

"I came to bring you tea," she said, "for your ankle." Eric gave her a warm smile. She stepped back, returning to Aaron's side and standing so her body was slightly behind his. Eric opened the jar and stuck his nose inside, smelling the contents.

"Mmmhm," he said, "Is it ginger?" The woman nodded and spoke in a soft voice.

"Ginger, tumeric and willow bark," she said, "for the pain and swelling."

"Thank you," Eric told her with another warm smile. "Why don't you stay for dinner," he suggested. The woman glanced nervously in Daryl's direction, looking uncertain. The large black dog issued another low throaty growl, but made no move to leave the woman's side. Aaron had her by the waist again, slowly moving her towards the table.

"Its alright," he told her again, "this is Daryl, he is part of that new group that I brought in a few days ago." Daryl gave the woman a little nod. The large tan dog at his side barked at him. Just one little yip, like it was frustrated at being left out of the introductions. Daryl reached over to pat it on the head again and was rewarded with a slobbery lick on his hand. He saw the corners of the woman's mouth turn up in a tiny trace of a smile. One of her hands went up, touching a crystal that was hanging from her neck on a silver chain. She rubbed her thumb over it nervously.

"And this is Rowan," Aaron said, placing his hand on the lower back of the woman next to him. He nodded towards the big black dog, "That's Tank, and your new friend there is Lily." He gestured towards the tan dog with a smile. Hearing her name mentioned, the dog charged over and sat down in front of Aaron, wagging her tail and looking up at him. "Guess you want a treat now huh?," Aaron asked the dogs. This brought both dogs to their feet, giant tails wagging as they crowded in closer to the man. He walked over to the fridge, taking a large glass mason jar down and unscrewing the top. The tan dog looked like it was thinking about jumping up and Rowan snapped her fingers at it, telling the dog to sit. It minded her, but it was wagging it's tail so hard, it's whole rear end was moving.

Aaron pulled a piece of jerky from the jar, handing it to the tan dog and yanking his hand back quickly to keep from losing any fingers. Then he tossed another piece up in the air for Tank, who jumped up to catch it and came down with a crash that shook the whole room and made the dishes on the table rattle. The woman sent the dogs over to one corner of the room with their treats. Then she approached the empty seat at the table, gripping the back of the chair lightly in her hands.

She looked at the man in the leather jacket. His aura hung close to his head in a mottled cloud of grey and royal blue. Usually she had to concentrate to see them, but his had just appeared to her in a soft circle of sadness around him. He didn't seem threatening, so she slid carefully into the chair. She felt the tip of one sandalled foot hit against the toe of the man's boot and she yanked her feet back quickly, crossing her ankles and tucking her feet under her chair.

Aaron poured her a glass of wine that she took from him with a grateful smile. She took a few big gulps before setting the glass down on the table. Daryl tried not to stare, but his eyes were drawn to her hands again. The tattoos she had there were symmetrical and done in an attractive pattern. They made each move of her hands look like a graceful dance. He noticed her nails were painted with shiny gold polish that was chipping off. The most striking thing about her, besides the tattoos on her hands, had to be her complexion. In all the areas of skin that were visible, she was covered in freckles.

Setting a plate down in front of her, Aaron scopped a mound of the sauced pasta onto the woman's plate before he returned to his seat. She ignored the fork he had given her and used her fingers to pick up a small bundle of noodles. Tilting her head to the side, she lifted the long strands of pasta up and dangled them into her mouth. When she was done chewing, she licked off the tips of her fingers and repeated the process.

Aaron watched Daryl out of the corner of his eye. Seeing people's first reactions to Rowan always amused him. She didn't use silverwear. And she had a way of doing it that seemed so natural, it almost made the people around her feel like they were the ones that had bad manners instead of her. Daryl watched her for a moment and then went back to shovelling his own food into his mouth. He had seen weirder shit than that.

"Didn't you want to go to the party?," Eric asked Rowan. She swallowed another mouthful of pasta and sucked at the tips of her fingers before she answered.

"Deanna said no dogs allowed," she informed him. "And there wasn't anyone dancing anyway."

"How do you know that if you didn't go?," Eric asked, teasing her. Rowan smiled at him, showing the one little corner tooth she had that stuck out further than the rest. Eric felt a slight blush rise in his cheeks. If the girls at his high school had been more like Rowan, maybe he would have been more interested in them. It was not her physical appearance that drew him, though no one could deny she was atractive in an unusual way. But more than that it was the soft light of understanding and kindness that shone out of her. Eric knew Aaron had seen him blushing, and it made him blush more. Aaron noticed everything. The fact that Eric had a schoolboy crush on the woman had become a sort of running joke between the couple.

"I peeked in the window," she admitted. Aaron laughed. Rowan's mouth turned up in a shy little smile before she shrugged her shoulders. "I thought there might be dancing."

"I'm not sure it was that kind of a party," Eric said. Rowan nodded her head. She had never been to the type of party that Deanna was having at her house. It seemed so formal and stuffy. All the people Rowan had seen inside looked uncomfortable. That was not her idea of a good time.

"You like to dance?," the man in the leather jacket asked her. His voice was low and gruff, much different from the other men at the table. She stared at him, biting at the corner of her lower lip. Then she looked down at her plate. Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Clearly she liked to dance, why else would she be talking about it? He silently cursed himself for asking such a stupid question, thinking that he should have just kept his trap shut.

"I used to," Rowan said with a tinge of sadness and regret in her voice, "before."


	2. Chapter 2

The garage was littered with random motorcycle parts. But he could tell no one had been working on the bike in question. The place was too clean to be a mechanic's garage. Daryl leaned down, scratching the big tan dog behind it's ears. He was caught off guard when the dog left the side of the woman it belonged to and followed him and Aaron out into the garage. Then Aaron opened up a coffee can and gave the dog another treat. This time it was a commercial dog biscuit. Daryl smiled. Now he knew why the dog was so eager to follow Aaron. The dog sat down and gave quiet little bark. Aaron tossed the treat in the air and the big dog jumped up and caught it, swallowing the biscuit down almost whole.

Now the dog came over to see if Daryl had anything to offer, she sniffed at his pockets while he scratched her on the head. Then she sat down, looking at him with her head cocked to the side and her long pink tounge hanging out. If dogs could talk, Daryl was sure this one would be asking for more food. Aaron held out the container of biscuits so Daryl could take one. Daryl snagged a big one, then held it down for the dog to take, finding out quickly why Aaron had tossed his in the air. His whole hand was now coated in slimy dog slobber. Daryl wiped the mess off on the leg of his pants. Then he glanced toward the door that led back into the house.

"She's a little jumpy," he said, thinking of the woman inside the house. Aaron followed his gaze, understanding that Daryl must be talking about Rowan.

"Believe it or not, she's a lot better than she was when she first got here," Aaron said. The fact that she had been comfortable enough to come knocking on his door was proof of how far she had come since she first arrived.

"What happened to her out there?," Daryl asked. As soon as the question was out of his mouth, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer. Nothing good happened to anyone out on the road.

"That's actually a bit of a mystery," Aaron said. He considered being a gossip as his main character flaw. It was something he was trying to work on. That meant he should probably keep what he knew about Rowan to himself. But he really wanted Daryl to like and trust him. And he could tell the man was interested in Rowan. Even now Daryl was looking at him with one eyebrow raised, waiting to hear what Aaron knew about her.

"Those videos that Deanna takes of everyone when they come in...," Aaron said, "they are all on a shelf in Deanna's house for anyone to watch." Daryl nodded. That woman had taped him and he had found it very uncomfortable. "Rowan's isn't there."

"You look for it?," Daryl asked. Aaron shook his head, a little smile forming on his face.

"Eric did," he explained, "he was curious about her." Daryl snorted. Curious was one way to put it. He had never seen a gay man pay so much attention to a woman before. Then again, he had not been around very many gay men.

"Maybe there was no tape," Daryl offered. Aaron shook his head. He had been at Deanna's house when Rowan got interviewed, but he had not heard everything, only a small part when he had come in to give her some water.

"There was. I asked Deanna about it. She said she put it away somewhere because no one needed to hear the things that were on it." Daryl scratched at the dog's head some more and considered the mystery of Rowan's missing tape. He thought about some of the things that the members of his group told Deanna. Terrible things. Cannibals and rapists, the governor and how he destroyed the prison. And their tapes were on that shelf. What could have happened to that woman that made her story unfit for other people to hear. "All I know is the little bit she told Eric."

"What's that?," Daryl asked. Aaron could tell he had the man's full attention now.

"When I found her, she was alone. But she didn't leave her home that way. She had her father with her."

The door to the garage cracked open with a creak. Rowan peeked in, calling her dog with the same whistle that she had used earlier. She looked in at the two men, her observant gaze lingering on Daryl. He was still a stranger, someone not to be trusted yet. But there was something comforting about him. Maybe it was his long hair. Where she grew up, going to the salon had not been a priority in life. Most people had long hair, even the men. Rowan didn't say anything to either man, but she gave Aaron a little nod. Once her dog bounded past her to run back inside the house, she shut the door.

The tea keetle was starting to let off a loud whistle and Rowan hurried into the kitchen to switch off the burner. Her long skirt swished around her legs as she moved. She poured the boiling water into the teapot and placed the diffuser carefully inside before she nestled the lid on. Then she started taking the dishes off the table, preparing to wash them in the sink.

"You don't have to do that," Eric told her.

"I don't mind," she said. His chair was turned sideways to the table, with his hurt ankle propped up on the pillow that Rowan had insisted in getting for him from the couch. She had set it gently under his foot, then rolled his pantleg up, feeling his ankle with her long deft fingers. Pete had felt Eric's ankle too, when he was checking to make sure it wasn't broken. But his touch had been painful and probing. Rowan's felt more like a caress than an examination. And she had been looking up at his face while she touched him, not down at his ankle. Eric had not been sure what exactly she was checking for, but when she was done, she smiled at him and rolled his pantleg back down.

Lily came over, her big tail wagging. She put one paw up on Eric's chair, like she was thinking about jumping on top of the man again. Rowan turned away from the sink, snapping her fingers at the dog and sending her back over to the corner with Tank. Since she was looking down at the dishes she was washing and Aaron was out in the garage, Eric knew he could look at Rowan all he wanted without making her nervous or getting teased later.

What he had thought at first was a long skirt, he realized now was a brightly colored fringed sarong she had knotted at her waist. When she turned to snap her fingers at her dog, she had stepped forward with one leg causing the slit in the sarong to fall open, revealing one of her long shapely legs from her ankle all the way up to her hip. On top she had an oversized tshirt on that she had cut the neck out of to make it more comfortable. As she leaned down to scrub at the dishes, it slipped down off one shoulder. The strap to the bra she had on was black and the skin on her back was just as freckly as the rest of her. On the leg that had snuck out of her makeshift skirt, she had a little silver ankle bracelet on that had a small charm hanging from it. Above that was another anklet made of braided leather cord.

"Where did you get your freckles?," Eric asked her. Rowan pulled her shirt back up on her shoulder with one damp hand like she could feel him looking at her. Then she wiped the now empty sink out with a towel and hung the towel over the side of it to dry. Her movements always seemed fluid and purposeful. She pulled the diffuser out of the teapot and poured each of them a steaming mug.

Eric thought she might not answer him. It was not unusual for her to stop talking in the middle of a conversation if the topic made her uncomfortable. She slid into the seat that Aaron had been sitting in during dinner. Leaning back against the chair, she pulled one foot up into the seat and rested her chin on her knee. She tilted her head down, staring at Eric through her thick black lashes.

"From my mother," she finally said, "she had red hair, like yours only redder." Eric smiled. He would have liked to hear more, but he knew by now not to press her too much with questions about her past. Rowan concentrated on the man in front of her while she sipped at her hot tea. His aura was a cone of yellow with little streaks of pink. The black streaks she had seen in it before she propped his ankle up had her worried. But now that he was resting with his foot elevated, they had faded to thin light streaks of grey. Eric was going to be fine. He just needed someone to care for him and he was too proud to ask. Her mother had been like that.

"What do you think of the new guy?," Eric asked her. He had seen her watching Daryl closely while they ate. And he was curious to see what she thought about him. Rowan's opinons of people were usually very intuitive. Eric was having a hard time getting a read on the man, and he was nervous for Aaron to be going out on the road with someone that he didn't fully trust.

"He seems lonely," Rowan said. She glanced over at her dogs. "Lily likes him."

"Doesn't Lily like everyone?," Eric asked. Rowan smiled, taking a larger sip of her tea now that it had cooled off a little. She held the mug in her hands, loving the feeling of the heat seeping out from the warm liquid inside.

"Why are you so worried about him?," Rowan asked. Her tone was casual, but her question took Eric off guard just the same. There was the intuitive thing he had just been thinking about. How had she known he was worried?

"Aaron is in the garage right now asking him to be Alexandria's new recruiter," Eric admitted. Rowan nodded. No wonder Eric seemed worried.

"I don't think he's gay," Rowan said. The man had been polite, but she had seen his eyes roaming over her body when he didn't think she was looking. She was used to the looks by now, all the men here looked at her like that. Looks like that had not been considered acceptable where she grew up, but she understood by now that these people didn't mean to be rude, they just had a different way of doing things.

Eric laughed, spitting a little slash of tea out onto the table. He pounded in his chest, coughing on the rest of what had gone down the wrong pipe. Rowan got up and grabbed the towel from the sink, wiping up the tea before she glided back to her chair.

"I am not worried about that," Eric told her once he recovered from his coughing fit, "I am worried he might get Aaron hurt or killed." Rowan nodded, understanding his concerns better now. To her his love for Aaron was pure and beautiful. Something small and precious that this world had not yet destroyed.

She didn't have much to offer on what Daryl might be like on the road. People were different out there. This beyond did things to people. It changed them. Moving slowly from her chair, she closed the space between her and Eric. Placing her hand softly on his shoulder, she offered him the only thing she had. Her love and support. He squeezed her hand with his, and blushed a little when she leaned down and kissed him softly on the cheek, her dark hair covering them both like a blanket.


	3. Chapter 3

**** I saw I had a reviewer question about Rowan's background and I promise I will get into that more as the story goes on. What I can explain for now without spoiling anything is that there is actually a large EcoVillage in central Virginia called the Twin Oaks Community. It is a kind of modern day hippie commune. I read about it online and that is where I got the inspiration for Rowan's back story. ****

Opening the door, she stood back, letting her wild dogs charge out ahead of her into the night. The temperature in the air had dropped since Rowan had taken the short walk over to Aaron's house. She stepped out onto the porch and wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she had brought a sweater. A hand touched her shoulder. Just a gentle tap, but the contact was unexpected and she jumped, backing quickly away.

Tank ran back over, taking a watchful stance at the bottom of the wooden steps of the porch. A low growl issued from his throat. Daryl eyed the dog, shrugging off his leather jacket. He held it out at arms reach, so the woman could take it without getting too close to him. She stared at the coat for a moment, like it was a snake that might bite her. Then stepped forward and took it. When she did, the tips of her fingers brushed against Daryl's hand.

Rowan slipped the coat over her shoulders and slid her arms into the sleeves. The heat from his body was still in the lining and she wrapped the coat around herself, holding it shut with her arms. The kind gesture from the man had taken her off guard. She had not expected him to be kind. Taking another look at him, Rowan reached inside the coat, clasping the crystal that hung from her neck and rubbing her thumb over it.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was soft and pleasing to the ears. She had just a touch of an accent, but one Daryl couldn't place. The black dog seemed to be convinced that his mistress was not being molested in any way. After one more low growl of warning directed towards Daryl, Tank darted off to sniff around the perimeter of Aaron's house.

Daryl gave Rowan a nod and then walked down the steps. He stopped on the sidewalk and turned back like he was waiting for her. She kept one hand around her to keep the coat shut and placed the other on the railing. Daryl watched her come down the steps. The woman had a funny way of walking, he had already noticed it when she was moving around inside the house. She pointed her feet when she moved, stepping down with her toe first before putting her heel on the step. It reminded him of a dancer, or maybe that funny high stepping horse he had seen the time he and his brother snuck into a rodeo without paying.

Once she got down to the sidewalk, Rowan whistled. Her dogs came running to her, bumping against her legs as they tried to crowd in as close as possible. She gave them each a scratch on the head, smiling a little at what silly beasts they were. Once Lily got her pets, she ran over to Daryl and sat down in front of him. Her tail was wagging and she looked up at him expectantly.

"You must have fed her," Rowan said. Daryl looked up from the dog, worried that the woman was upset with him for feeding her dog without asking her first. But there was a soft smile on her face. Her eyes met his for just a moment and then she looked down at Tank, giving him another scratch behind the ears. Lily let out a little bark. Then she wiggled closer to Daryl, sniffing at his pockets.

"Ain't got no more for ya," Daryl told the dog. Rowan snapped her fingers at the dog, calling it back over to her. Lily could really be a pest sometimes, especially when it came to begging for treats. Now Daryl found himself standing awkwardly on the sidewalk in front of Aaron's house, trying to think up something to say to the woman. And not a single thing was coming to mind. Finally he pointed at the house across the street.

"That's my house," he told her. He was suddenly glad for the overly large overly fancy house they had been given to stay in. For the first time in his life that he had not been embarrassed to tell a woman where he lived. But this woman did not seem impressed. She simply glaced at the house and nodded her head.

Rowan took what Daryl said to mean he was tired and wanted to go home. She headed down the sidewalk away from him. "Goodnight then," she said, "I will bring your jacket back tomorrow." She rubbed at the leather when she said that and he was caught in the moment, thinking about how good she looked in his coat. Her dark hair draped down around it, almost the same color as the leather. Until he saw her walking away, he had not realized how desperate he was for some civil human contact with someone outside the small group he considered family.

"Wait," he said, remembering the half bottle of wine in his hand. Aaron had shoved a cork in the bottle and given it to him, insisting that he and Eric already had more than enough. Daryl held the bottle up. He didn't say anything else, he just lifted the bottle in the air and looked at her. Rowan saw it again as he stood there, the same small tiny grey and blue bubble that hung close around his head like a tiny halo. And she remembered what she had said to Eric about the man. _He's lonely._ He needed a friend. But she wasn't sure it was safe to go anywhere alone with him. Back at his house he might have a gun that he planned to point at her. Out on the road she had learned her lesson the hard way. Some people only pretended to be nice.

Daryl watched the woman. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and toyed with the zipper on his coat. Something changed in her eyes as she looked at him, like she had seen something that he didn't know was there. Then she bit at her bottom lip. He didn't mind that she was taking a little time to decided if she wanted to go with him. If she had been too eager, it would have made him more nervous. Finally she nodded her head.

"Okay."

Daryl started off towards his house, with Rowan and her dogs trailing behind him. He opened up the door and the dogs charged past him into the house. Good thing everyone as still at the party, Daryl thought, or they would have gotten the shit scared out of them by the giant slobbering beasts. He flipped on the lights, standing back so Rowan could get through the doorway without bumping into him. Her tan dog leaped up on the couch and grabbed a pillow, shaking it back and forth in her giant slobbering jaws. The pillow nearly exploded as the fabric ripped, sending bits of cotton fluff flying up into the air like snow. Rowan's hands came up to the sides of her face as her mouth opened wide. She stared at the naughty dog in shock for a moment, then she rushed over.

"Lily! Bad Girl!," she hollered. Rowan grasped the naughty offender by the collar, dragging her off the couch and over to the door. Then she flung the door open and ordered both dogs out onto the porch, mumbling her apologies to Daryl. She shut the door and rushed over to the living room where she started picking up all the little pieces of white fluff, stuffing them back into the ripped shell of fabric that used to be a throw pillow. Daryl stood in the doorway of the living room, watching her. He was finding the whole scene rather comical. That pillow never even stood a chance.

"Rowan," he said, trying to get her attention, "its alright, I can clean that up later." She stopped, the remenants of the pillow cluched in her hands. Her eyes went wide and scared as she looked at him. She had sent her dogs outside without thinking. And now she was alone in this house with a strange man. He moved towards her slowly, reaching forward to take the pile of fluff and fabric from her hands. Then he turned and headed for the front door. He opened it and flung the whole mess outside into the bushes.

"Hated that ugly pillow anyway," he announced. Rowan smiled, feeling a little of her tension start to dissipate. He stood there staring at her for a moment. She was pretty when she smiled. Her teeth looked like actual teeth, not the weird overwhitened chicklets that some girls had in their mouths. She stopped smiling and now she was looking at him like she was waiting for something. Then he remembered the fucking wine bottle he still had in his hand.

Daryl walked through the living room into the kitchen, flipping the lights as he went and then wishing he had not turned so many of them on. Rowan followed him into the kitchen. She took off his jacket on hung it on the back of a chair. When she did, she noticed there was a vase of fresh flowers someone had put on the table. She held her hair back with one hand as she leaned forward to smell them.

Daryl poked through the cupboards, wishing that he had taken time to figure out where things were kept in the kitchen before this moment. There were no wine glasses, or at least none that he could find. So he grabbed a few coffee mugs without really looking at them and set them on the counter. Pulling the cork back out of the bottle, he filled each mug about halfway up. He slid one across the counter to Rowan before he noticed it said 'I also use this mug to whack off in' on the side of it. She picked the mug up by the handle. Then she turned it so she could read whatever was on it that was making Daryl's face turn a particular shade of red. A small giggle bubbled up out of her.

"Your cup?," she asked him. She was smiling again, bigger this time. He shook his head and took a large swallow of the wine in his mug. She only sipped at hers, tracing the edge of the counter with her finger. For a moment she looked ready to sit down on one of the barstools that were lined up against the island in the middle of the kitchen. But then she saw something that caught her attention.

Over by the window, there was a CD player and a few stacks of CDs. Rowan walked over, taking another sip of her wine before she set her mug down on the counter and began rifling through the stacks. She had a graceful way of moving her hands and Daryl noticed the markings on them again. When she was walking down the steps at Aaron's house he noticed she had similar tattoo designs on the tops of her feet that showed through the straps of her sandals.

Without asking permission, she turned the player on and popped it open, taking whatever was in there out and putting in the music of her choice. She held the CD she had taken out up in the air with one finger threaded through the hole in the middle. Finding its home, she put that one back in the case and pressed the play button on the player. Something soft and soulful came drifting out, but it was a song Daryl didn't know. Michonne's music, he thought.

Rowan leaned back against the counter, taking another sip of wine from her jack off mug. She closed her eyes when she drank. Daryl noticed before that she had done the same thing while she was sniffing the flowers. Her hips were moving, swaying just a little in time to the slow rhythm of the music. Daryl had seen people dance in movies, and he had seen strippers on the few occasions that his brother harassed him into going to a club, but he had never seen someone move like that. Her dancing did not look like she intended for it to be sexy. She looked more like she was just enjoying the music without giving a thought to the effect her dancing was having on Daryl. But there was a flow to her movements that he liked.

She tipped her mug up, swallowing down the last of her drink and moved closer to him in order to set her empty cup in the sink. Then she extended her hand out to him. He stared at it, like she had stared at his coat earlier when he held it out for her. Daryl was enjoying watching her dance, but he was not sure how happy he was to be drawn into the activity. He felt like a big bat was flapping around inside his stomach. _I don't know how to dance. Why the fuck didn't I ever learn?_ He hesistated. Then he drank down the last little bit of wine he had and set his mug down in the counter with a clink. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and put his hand in hers. He half expected her hand to be weird and bumpy from all the tattoos, but her skin against his felt soft and smooth.

As soon as Daryl got close to Rowan and started shuffling his arms around awkwardly, she knew he had no idea what he was doing. It was hard for her to imagine someone growing up without any music or dancing in their life. How sad that must have been. Even as a small child, she remembered festivals and drumming circles. Her tiny hand in her mother's larger one, both of them covered with the same freckles. Dancing and laughing, sometimes only with each other but most often with other people joining in.

Rowan took him by the wrists, guiding his arms around her and placing his hands on the small of her back. He was stiff and clumsy in her arms, with none of the confidence she had seen in his movements earlier. In an odd way, it made her feel more comfortable. If he was nervous to put his hands on her waist, she knew for sure now that he wasn't planning to try and do anything else to her. She leaned in closer and wrapped her arms around his neck.

With her this close, Daryl could see that her eyes were really a dark green, not brown like they had looked from further away. They had little flecks of gold in them. And she had freckles everywhere, even her eyelids. His hands were on her back, one resting over the fabric of her skirt. When she lifted her arms up, the baggy shirt she had on pulled up leaving his other hand against the bare skin of her lower back. She moved slowly, one hip rising and falling followed by the other one. Daryl figured he ought to do something besides just standing there with his hands on her, so he shifted his weight from one foot to the other feeling silly.

He was trying to concentrate on his dancing to keep from thinking about how good her hair smelled. Or how soft the skin on her back was under his calloused hands. The sensual way she was moving her hips. And Daryl was definitely trying not to think about how long it had been since a woman had been this close to him. Despite his best efforts, he could feel himself getting hard inside his pants. Hard and then harder. And she was leaning in closer to him, their bodies almost touching.

Rowan leaned her head down, intending to rest it on his shoulder. But then she popped it up. Daryl felt her go stiff in his arms and he was nervous it was because she had noticed the part of him that was growing between them. A chill shot up her spine. She had that weird feeling she got before something bad was about to happen. Then she heard her dogs barking like crazy out on the front porch. Rowan let go of Daryl and ran for the door. Before her hand hit the knob, she could already hear people yelling outside. She flung the door open so hard it slammed into the wall on the other side of it. Tank had a large man with bright red hair pinned down in the ground in front of the steps. And Lily was barking at a small and very startled looking group of people. A few of them had knives in their hands.

"No, no," Rowan yelled at them. She flew down the steps, grabbing hold of Lily's collar and whistling for Tank. He barked in the man's face one more time and then got off and hurried to Rowan's side. The group of people near her looked threatening and Tank could smell their fear. The big dog charged a few steps towards them, barking aggressively. They backed up. A young black man put his hands up in the air like he was trying to surrender.

The man Tank had on the ground was trying to get up. He was cussing up a storm and Rowan could tell he was drunk. He managed to get to his knees before he fell forward again into a large steaming present that one of the dogs had been polite enough to leave on his lawn. Now he was cussing more and some of the other people were yelling. The young black man was laughing

Rowan did the only thing she could think of. The one thing that had saved her from so many other bad situations. She grabbed her dogs and ran. Daryl made it out onto the porch in time to see her racing down the street, her long hair and skirt flying out behind her. He watched her disappear into the night, pulling his pants to try and hide the bulge inside. Then he looked down from the porch at the small group of people assembled in the yard. He waved his arm at them before reaching into his shirt pocket to pull out a cigarette.

"Y'all have got the worst fuckin' timing on earth!"


	4. Chapter 4

Walking down his steps, Reg finished cleaning his glasses off on his shirt before sliding them back onto his face. He pushed them up on the bridge of his nose as he stepped down off the bottom step. In his living room, he smiled when he Rowan's long black hair hanging over the middle of the back of the couch. Her two dogs were sitting on either side of her like giant bookends.

Deanna had told the woman that she was welcome at their house anytime, and Rowan had taken the invitation literally. A few months ago Reg had heard a loud noise in the middle of the night and come downstairs, his son Spencer behind him with a baseball bat in hand. He found her rifling through his fridge looking for something to eat. When he got done laughing, Reg had taken himself back to bed and Spencer had stayed to make her a sandwich.

The spare room in their house technically belonged to Rowan now. But she only used it on rare occasions. Reg knew this was fine with Deanna since his wife didn't care much for having the giant dogs around. For now Rowan was staying in the small trailer Tobin hauled out to the back garden area for her. The trailer didn't have heat, so Reg guessed when the weather started to get colder they would be seeing more of her. And as far as he was concerned, he was more than happy to have her, slobbering dogs and all.

Reg loved his sons, but he had always wanted a daughter. And he knew Rowan had been very close with her father before she lost him. In his perfect world, she would take a liking to Aiden or Spencer and he might get to have her as a daughter in law. But even if that didn't happen, she was slowly warming up to him and he enjoyed her company.

Reg walked quietly, interested to see what Rowan was doing on the couch. He turned the corner and saw she had the television on. As far as he knew, she never watched tv. When Spencer had tried to invite her to watch a movie with him, she had told the boy that tv was the idiot box. So now Reg was even more curious. He came around the corner and saw that one of Deanna's interviews was playing, and Rowan was watching it with rapt attention. She had a bowl of snow peas in her lap. Mindlessly peeling the woody strings off the ends of them, she was popping them one at a time into her mouth.

The floor squeaked a little under Reg's slipper and Rowan's big black dog alerted her to his presence. She snatched up the remote, hitting almost every button on it before she found the one that turned the tv off. A few of her peas spilled out onto the couch and Lily slurped them up with, making sure to leave a trail of slobber behind on the cushion.

"See anything worth seeing?," Reg asked her. He noticed she was blushing a little under her freckles. The color stood out in her face like someone had given her a hard quick slap in each of her cheeks.

"Well, I found out what happened to Fancy Nancy," she announced. Reg laughed, then felt like a terrible person for laughing. Fancy Nancy was the name Rowan had given to a pesky possum that liked to hang around outside the main gate. She and Olivia had been feeding it scraps. And a few times Rowan had even mangaged to coax the animal into taking a piece of food from her hand. He guessed that no one had informed her of the animal's unfortunate demise. "You don't think they ate her do you?," Rowan asked.

Reg didn't need to guess on that. Deanna had seen them doing it. She said the stink of cooked possum was too disgusting for words. Instead of telling Rowan all this, he decided it might be better just to change the subject.

"How would you like some oatmeal to go with your peas?," he asked her with a big forced smile, "and maybe a treat for Lily?" Lily was off the couch and up in his face before the words were all the way out of his mouth. He held his arms up to keep the dog from jumping up on him. Then he headed for the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for something to feed the dog. There was a ton of garbage left over from the party, including some leftover roasted chicken. Taking two large slices, Reg tossed one to each dog. Then Rowan sent them back into the living room to lie down.

Drifting back into the kitchen, Rowan used her hands to boost herself up on the counter. Scooting back, she crossed her legs. Reg didn't stare, but Rowan had her own style and he always liked to get a look at what she had on. Today it was a shorter black dress that was see through lace in the shoulders and waist. She had several necklaces on, including the crystal she always wore. Her long hair hung down around her and she had some small pieces of it braided with feathers tied into the braids. She noticed him looking and held one feather out to him for closer inspection.

"Turkey feather," she informed him. He ran his fingers over it, it was black and white patterned with a little teal on the tip, prettier than he would expect a turkey feather to be.

"You only come to watch tv?," Reg asked. She looked down, blushing again. Then she shook her head.

"I got to talk to Deanna 'bout something." She kept her eyes on her lap, toying with a loose string on her dress.

"She ought to be down in a minute," Reg said, turing to look down the hallway. To mention Deanna was to make her appear, it seemed. Just as he looked, he saw her coming down the hall towards the kitchen in her robe.

"Good morning Rowan," she called from the hall once she saw the dogs. Rowan called good morning back, but Reg could see she was starting to look very nervous about something. Deanna came into the kitchen and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

"I think Rowan has something she wants to talk to you about," Reg mentioned. He was nervous about the new group in town. If one of them had been hassling Rowan, he was not going to be happy about it. Deanna could tell right away that the woman looked upset.

"What's wrong?," Deanna asked her. She was still toying with the string on her dress, wrapping it around her finger tip along the line of one of her tattoos and then unwrapping it.

"Tank did something bad," she said in a small quiet voice. Deanna relaxed. Like her husband, she was worried that someone might have done something to hurt Rowan. Rowan took a quick glance up at Deanna's face, seeing that she still looked more concerned than angry.

"He didn't bite Pete again did he?," Deanna asked. Rowan shook her head vigorously. Pete had deserved the bite he got, but she decided it might not be best to bring that up since she was already worried she might be in trouble. If Deanna said she had to get rid of Tank, she would want to die. She could never give him up. Rowan would have to leave this place. And she liked it here. More now than ever before.

"He jumped on a man and barked in his face," she said, "and he pooped on the man's lawn and the man fell in it. Then he barked at a bunch of other people and scared them." Deanna put her hand over Rowan's hand, stilling the nervous motion. She knew how the woman was about the dogs. They were her best friends in the world. And Deanna had warned her after the incident with Pete that she had to keep them under control.

"He didn't bite anyone did he?," Deanna asked. Rowan shook her head again. "Who did he jump on?"

"A man with red hair and a red moustache," Rowan said. She had not caught the man's name.

"Abraham," Reg said, pleased that he knew who she was talking about from the description. Deanna nodded.

"I'm sure if you just tell Abraham you're sorry," Deanna told the nervous young woman, "Everything will be just fine." Rowan looked up, her face very happy and hopeful now. She hopped down off the counter and threw her arms around Deanna. Deanna siftened a little at the unexpected contact before hugging her back. As quickly as Rowan had embraced her, she let go. Then she whistled for her dogs and took off out the back door.

"Rowan you forgot your oatmeal," Reg called after her. But she was already long gone. She was a bit like the wind, you never knew when she was going to come and go. He smiled, thinking he knew someone that might want some extra breakfast. Deanna shook her head, watching out the window as Rowan ran around the side of the house, her dogs trampling every flower in sight.

"She was over early just to talk to me about that," Deanna mentioned.

"When I came down she was watching one of your interviews, I think she might have something for one of the men in that new group," Reg said.

"Rick?," Deanna asked, immediately assuming that it must be him. If she was a heathy young woman with no attachments, that's who she would be interested in. And that was before she saw him without the beard. There was not denying that he was one handsome man. Plus he had that cute little motherless baby.

"No, it wasn't Rick's tape she was watching," Reg said. He turned to hide a smile. Reg wouldn't embarrass his wife by mentioning it, but he was more than well aware what she thought of the new group's leader. She hid it well, and he knew she would never even think to act on it, but there was no question that she found the man attractive.

"Who was it then?," Deanna asked. She was legitimately curious now, thinking through the group's members in her mind and trying to guess which of them Rowan might take an interest in. She was a strange woman, so it was hard to say what her taste in men might be like. If Deanna had to take a second guess, and she knew now it wasn't Rick, she would put her money on maybe that tall younger black man, or maybe even Maggie's husband Glen. He came off very kind and forthright, like Rowan herself. She hoped it wasn't him. They didn't need any of that sort of trouble. Reg watched his wife's expressions. Then he told her the name of the man who's tape Rowan had been watching.

"Daryl Dixon."


	5. Chapter 5

He didn't take the gun. He wanted it. But taking it had not felt right to him. Taking it would have been too easy. And the easiest path was not always the right one to take. Daryl walked around in the woods by himself for a while, thinking about Carol and Rick and what they thought about this community. Rick was right about some of the things he said about these people. Some. They were not prepared for the world outside their walls. The world that would eventually find its way inside. These people needed them. But Rick was unable to see the other side of the coin. Like these people needed them, they needed these people. They needed to hope again. Carl and Judith deserved that much at least.

Daryl wandered aimlessly, lost in his thoughts. Soon he found himself walking along the outside of the wall. There were tiny little gaps between the panels. As he walked, he got tiny little glimpses of the life that went on inside. He was nearing the front gates, thinking about going inside and heading over to Aaron's house to work on his motorcycle. When he heard voices, he stopped and listened, creeping closer so he could see who was talking.

A tall man that he recognized as one of Deanna's sons was talking to someone that Daryl couldn't see. But he saw Rowan's big black dog pacing back and forth close by. He felt his heart catch in his chest and quickly moved to one side to try and get a look at the woman. She was wearing a short black lacy dress with the long scarf she had been wearing as a skirt the day before draped around her shoulders. From her body posture, Daryl guessed her and Deanna's son were having a disagreement. The man was holding a gun out to her like he wanted her to take it.

"Rowan," Spencer said to the woman, "You know the rules. Mom said if you want to go out by yourself, you have to take a gun."

"I'm not by myself, I have Tank and Lily with me," Rowan argued, she gave the man a big pretty smile, tilting her head to the side and kicking at the pavement with the toe edge of her sandal. She was using a voice that even Daryl could tell was not very genuine. He found himself smiling as he watched her. She was not a very good liar, that much was certain.

"Nice try," Spencer said. He stepped closer, holding the gun out to her. "Just take it and stop being stubborn." Rowan reached out and took the gun, making her reluctance obvious. "And don't lose this one like the last time," Spencer warned her. She nodded, placing the gun in the large woven basket she had balanced on her hip. Giving Spencer another big smile, she started walking away. She watched over her shoulder, waiting until the gate was shut and she was blocked from Spencer's watchful eye.

She darted back towards the gate and Daryl moved again to keep her in view. There was a large metal trashcan sitting off to the side of the gate. Rowan lifted the lid. Then she took the gun back out of her basket. She held it by the grip between her thumb and forefinger, touching it with as little of her hand as possible. Like it was a disease or one of Judith's nasty diarrhea shit diapers. And Daryl would be goddamned. She chucked that thing right in the trash and closed the lid. He felt himself start to laugh, remembering what Deanna's son had just said to the woman. _Don't lose this one like the last time._ There was no doubt in his mind that she had tossed the last gun straight in the trash just like she had done with that one. Since Carol and Rick were so desperate to get and have guns, he found the situation to be somewhat ironic and more than a little funny.

Having disposed of the unwanted firearm, Rowan brushed her hands off like she had touched something dirty. Then she whistled for her dogs and started off in the other direction. Daryl waited until she was far enough away that he wouldn't be spotted. Once she was gone, he walked over to the can and took out the gun she had thrown away. He tucked it into the back of his pants, intending to give it back to Deanna's son. But before he could knock on the gate to be let in, he found himself staring after the woman and her dogs, wondering where she was going. He also found himself worried for her. Daryl did not blame Deanna's son for making her take a gun. Outside these walls was no place for her, especially if she was unarmed. Daryl brushed his hair out of his eyes and set off in the direction he had seen Rowan take.

With her dogs trampling everything in sight, Rowan's trail would not have been hard to follow even if she wasn't walking along a rather well trampled path. Daryl caught up to her quickly. He stayed far enough back that her dogs wouldn't hear him, but close enough to keep her in sight. She was crotching down every so often, picking up things from the ground and placing them inside the wide shallow basket she was carrying.

When she bent down the next time, Daryl saw a walker shuffling towards her. He got out the gun he had taken from the trash, aiming it at the intruder. He didn't want her to know he was following her, but he would rather reveal himself than let her get bitten or scratched. She heard the crunch of the leaves under the walkers feet and stood up. Her hair fell forward into her face and she tossed her head to throw it behind her shoulders. Then she whistled for her dogs. They bounded to her side, growling at the approaching walker. Pointing at the walker, she issued a command to Tank, the big black dog.

"Tank, get him," she said. Tank ran at the walker, jumping up and knocking the thing down onto it's back in the dirt. Rowan pulled a knife from a fringed shealf on the leather belt around her waist. She stepped over and leaned down. Before she plunged the knife in, Daryl heard her tell the walker she was sorry. Pulling the knife back out, she used the shirt the walker was wearing to wipe off her knife before she placed it back in the sheath. Then she patted her dog, praising him for what a good job he did. The big dog licked at her face a few times before she stood up to keep herself from being coated in slobber. Retrieving her basket, she fished aroung inside of it and produced what Daryl guessed was a small treat for the dog. Whatever it was, Tank gobbled it up eagerly and then she tossed another one in the air for Lily.

Giving each of the dogs one more pet first, Rowan balanced the basket back on her hip and kept moving. Daryl followed, glancing down at the walker she had killed. Now he knew why she didn't need a gun. The dogs protected her. From the walkers at least. Hearing her tell the monster she was sorry before she stabbed it made him feel funny down in the pit of his stomach. He had not felt bad for killing a walker in a very long time. Her quiet words reminded him that walkers were people. And it reminded him of something he had stop believing after Beth died. That there was still room in this world for kindness.

He followed her about another mile before she came to the place she was headed for. A small lake spread out in front of them. A few ducks swam around out where the water was deeper, intermingled with a large flock of geese. Rowan's dogs scampered around, siffing at the ground and giving chase to any water fowl that happened to be resting on the grassy shore. She set her basket down, taking off her fringed shall and using it to cover the items inside so the tender leaves would not wilt in the bright light of the afternoon sun. Then she pulled something out of the basket. Both dogs came running over, running around her and barking. She held up her hand so the desired item was out of their reach. Daryl smiled when he saw it was nothing but a tennis ball.

Rowan threw the ball into the water for the dogs. She had clearly never played softball when she was younger because it didn't go very far and her posture when she threw it was all wrong. But her dogs didn't seem to mind. They went flying into the lake, trying to get to the ball before the other one did. Tank managed to snatch the ball up first and he came running back, looking pleased with himself. Rowan wrestled the ball from his mouth and threw it back into the water, trying to aim for Lily so she could have a turn. The game went on for some time, until both dogs were wet and muddy.

Tank ran back with the ball and started shaking the muddy water off. Rowan held her arms up, trying to block the spray, but it was no use. She got covered in drips of mud from head to toe. Taking the ball back first, she stuffed it back in the basket. Daryl thought she might head back to town to wash up. But instead she took her belt off and dropped it on top of the basket. The big black dog wagged his tail, excited now that it looked like his mistress planned to take a swim with him.

"Want to swim?," Rowan asked the dog. The dog must have been asked this question before, because it made him so enthusiatic that he tried to jump on her. She shoved him away, "you are one muddy beast Tank, get back." She kicked off her sandals and pulled her dress off over her head. Daryl had not followed the woman with the intention of seeing her naked. He just wanted to make sure nothing happened to her. He couldn't leave now, not without revealing himself. And he supposed he ought to look away, but was finding that was easier said than done.

Her legs were long and had a healthy curve to them. The only thing she had on under her dress was a pair of black lacy underpants, which she quickly pushed down and dropped on top of the pile of her other things. Her breasts were not big, but they were round and high, tipped with soft pink nipples. She took a stretchy bracelet off her wrist and used it to tie her long hair up on top of her head in a big sloppy bun of curls and feathers.

Once her hair was bound up, Rowan turned and started walking down to the waters edge, giving him a look at her rounded backside and the soft sloping curve of her back. She had twin dimples on the lower part of her back above her ass. For some reason it came into Daryl's mind that they were called the dimples of venus. He had no idea where he had obtained this information but he was fascinated with the look of them. Watching her walk slowly into the water made Daryl's mouth fill up with spit and he swallowed hard, thinking about how the creamy white skin on her butt and breasts were the only places her body was void of the freckles that covered the rest of her.

Sinking into the water, Rowan began to swim out into the deeper part of the lake. Tank followed her, his black head bobbing in the water like a seal. Lily ran back and forth in the more shallow water, barking at them both.

"Stop being a chicken Lily," Rowan called to the dog from out in the deeper water. She had to watch Tank to keep him from swimming too close to her and scratching her under the water with his big clumsy dog paws. After a few loud whistles from Rowan, Lily splashed in and started swimming out to meet them.

The small trio was swimming far from the shore now. With them out there, Daryl knew he could get away without being seen. He knew that's what he should do. Sneak away and go back to town, pretend he was never out here to begin with. But he still felt uncomfortable leaving Rowan outside alone. And lets be serious here, he thought, he also wanted to get another look at her naked body. It seemed harmless enough, all he was doing was looking at her. He would never hurt her. And he had not seen anything beautiful in such a long time.

After a good swim, Rowan and the dogs came back towards the shore. She walked up, shooing the dogs away from her so they would go shake off somewhere else. The breeze shifted, blowing through the woods out over the lake. Daryl felt it, blowing his hair forward into his face. And then he saw Lily's head pop up. She gave a little bark and ran straight for his hiding spot. Sniffing at him and rusting her wet dog face through the bush he was crouched behind, she made sure this was the man she thought it was. Then she sat down and started begging for a treat. Wagging her tail happily, she gave a little yip and stared at Daryl expectantly.

"Go away Lily,"Daryl told the dog, waving his arm at her, "dumb dog. Go on and git." He saw that it was already to late. Rowan had her long scarf wrapped around her body. She held it up with one hand and with the other, she was gripping her knife, heading right for where he was hiding.

"Who's there?," she called. From the way Lily was acting, it was someone she knew. Tank stayed close to the woman, and when they got close, he started to growl at the bush. Daryl figured he better show himself, before he scared Rowan worse or got attacked by her giant dog. Standing up, he brushed himself off and put his hands up like to show he had not intentions of hurting her.

"Daryl?," she asked, sounding confused, "what are you doing back there, are you hurt?" He had expected Rowan to immediately accuse him of being a pervert and spying on her, mostly because he was acting like one and that's what he had been doing. The concern in her voice took him off guard.

"No," he said. Then he stammered for a minute, trying to think of some reasonable explanation for his behavior. Finally he just settled on the truth, or close to it anyway. "I followed you "cause I wanted to see where you were going. I didn't know you were goin' to start taking your clothes off." She smiled at him, almost laughing a little. One thing she knew about his kind of people. They were all prudes when it came to the natural human form. Nudity in itself had not been considered arousing in her old community. People took their clothes off to bathe or swim, often in the lake or river. And they took them off, or most of them anyway, when it was very hot outside. Women took their shirts off to nurse their babies. No one made a big deal out of it. Like the awkward way he held her when they were dancing, she found his embarrasment at seeing her naked to be endearing and rather sweet.

"You could have come swimming with me," she offered, "Its hot out today. You didn't need to hide back here." Daryl nodded. Now he felt like an even bigger idiot for hiding and spying on her, when he might have just shown himself earlier and spent some time with her instead. She walked back over to her stuff and pulled her underwear on under the shall. She turned her back to him and dropped her shall so she could pull her dress back over her head. He looked down, trying to find anything to focus on besides her body, braless under her flowy lace dress.

She had set her knife down near her basket and Daryl picked it up, turning it over in his hands. The blade was curved and wicked sharp. And the handle felt like it was made from a smoothed down deer antler. The knife looked simple, but upon closer inspection, it was really almost a work of art. The sheath she had for it was interesting too. It looked like it was made of buckskin, with fringed pieces hanging down. One side of it was beaded in blue and white. There were a few places where the beads had come off, but it was still a very attractive piece.

Rowan hooked her belt around the slimmest part of her waist, and then reached to take the knife back. She saw Daryl admiring it. "It was my father's," she told him. Daryl saw it then, a small sad smile on her face. The father that Aaron told him about, she had lost him out on the road.

"What was he like?," Daryl asked. He knew better than to ask what happened to the man. No one liked that question. Before she answered, Rowan spread out her shall on the grass and sat down, motioning for him to join her. Then she got a small canteen out of her basket and took a sip before handing it to Daryl. He took a drink, it was some kind of tea. Maybe mint with something more flowery mixed in. He found he liked the taste and took another sip before handing it back.

"My father was a full blooded Lakota Sioux," she said, "his grandfather before him was chief of his tribe." Rowan smiled a little, relaxing into the story. She liked talking about her family and her life before the turn. It was her way of keeping the happy memories of them alive in her mins. Daryl could tell whatever story she was about to tell him was a favorite one. Something that had been told and retold, a story people liked to hear. And he was happy to hear anything that wasn't an explanation about how someone got killed on a run. Plus if she wanted to talk, it kept him from having to think of things to say to her.

"When he was ready to become a man, my father's father brought him across the country to the mountains of Virginia to go on a vision quest." Daryl found himself fully invested in what she was saying. Almost like he could imagine it happening. From the way she was smiling, he knew her tale was going to have a happy ending.

"Did he have a vision?," he asked.

"In a way," Rowan said. Then a blush rose up into her cheeks, under her freckles. She looked down for a moment and then back into his eyes. The grey was gone from the small bubble around him. The blue remained, but it was tinged with little streaks of orange and red. Red, she thought, the color of passion but also of fear, in little lightning streaks around him that he didn't know were there.

"He didn't finish his quest, instead he met my mother." Now she could see Daryl smiling. Rowan paused a moment, thinking about the significance of her story and how everything in life came around to the end of the same circle. "He heard someone singing and followed the noise, thinking it was part of his vision quest. Then he saw her. She was bathing naked in the creek."


	6. Chapter 6

There was a knock on the gate. Spencer could hear the loud breathing and stomping paws of Rowan's dogs, so he rushed to open the gate up for her. Mid motion he paused, shocked to see that she was not alone. She had only had her dogs with her when she left. But now one of the men from that new group was with her. A rough looking one. Spencer was concerned for her. He didn't know these people yet, and Rowan was so gentle. What if one of these men tried to hurt her. For the first time he questioned his mother's decision to let them in.

Sliding the gate open wide enough for the dogs to get in, Spencer took another look at the pair. Rowan was certainly not acting like she had been hurt or harassed in any way. On the contrary, she was standing very close to the man, and smiling at him. She got so close, her hand brushed against the man's hand and then Spencer saw her take hold of the man's hand, squeezing at it before she let go. The look on her face was soft and dreamy, like there was no one else around but the man next to her. Normally she had a smile for Spencer when she saw him. But not today.

"Hi Spencer," Rowan said, turning her dark eyes towards him a moment before looking back at the other man. Now instead of concern, Spencer found himself wrestling with another emotion. One that was new for him. Jealousy. Rowan wasn't technically his girlfriend. But he hoped she might be, someday soon. If Rowan had been paying him any attention, she would have seen the flicker of green, winding around his head like a snake made of smoke. But her attention was focused only on the man beside her.

Daryl, however, did not fail to notice the man's expression. And he had seen the protective way the man had been hovering around Rowan before when she had been leaving town to go on her swim. But she had not said one word to Daryl about having a boyfriend. If there was something between her and Deanna's son, Daryl doubted she would be leaning into him and touching his hand in front of the man. He didn't know her well, but he knew enough to be certain that she didn't have a cruel bone in her body.

Spencer stepped closer to Rowan. Maybe he meant to put a hand around her waist and lead her away for a private word. Or maybe he just planned to talk to her. Either way, Daryl got in his way and took the gun out of his waistband. He shoved it a little more forcefully than necessary into Spencer's chest.

"Here ya go," he told him.

"Thanks," Spencer said. He backed off quickly, not eager to start any kind of altercation. Daryl noticed he did glance at Rowan a few more times, but now he had a look of concern on his face again. Concern was fine. Daryl didn't mind that. But the possesive look the younger man had a few moments before was not going to fly with him. Rowan watched the subtle exchange between the two men. She wasn't sure what was going on between them, but she wondered why Spencer was looking at Daryl like he was afraid of him.

A vehicle door slammed, and Rowan glanced over. She saw Aiden and Nicholas standing near a van with some people she didn't know. New people that were part of Daryl's group. She had not met them yet. But she recognized the tall black kid. He was the one that had laughed at his friend when he fell face first into her dog's feces. Nudging a pretty brown haired woman next to him with his elbow, he smiled at Rowan and then pointed at her dogs.

Rowan thought she might walk over and introduce herself. And maybe introduce the dogs and apologize about Tank barking at them. But when she focused on the young man what she saw made her stop short in her tracks and start to back up. She bumped hard into Daryl, who had not anticipated her sudden movements. He put one hand on her waist.

"You alright there?," he asked. He stepped around her to get a look at her face. First he thought that she might just be nervous because she didn't know Glenn and Noah yet. But she didn't look nervous. She looked scared, horrified even.

Rowan tried again, focusing on the young black man. But he had no aura. Not even the filmy grey kind that hung around the heads of the sick and dying. He was simply there, but his life force was not. The people around him, shadows hung around their heads like black hoods. She saw them then, a pack of grim reapers. Black auras around them like shrouds, and their faces made of bone and blood. All except Aiden. Like the young man, he also had no aura at all.

Everything was making sense to her now. The dream she had while she slept. It came back to her in flashes of a raven sitting on red cloud. The raven only had one big eye in the center of it's forehead. It turned to look at her before it spoke ot her in it's strange caw. But by the time she woke up, she had forgotten what the bird told her. Dreams were like that sometimes. The gift had never been strong in her. Not like her mother.

"Damn Rowan," Aiden called, he walked over and clapped his hands in front of her face a few times, "you having a bad acid flashback or what?" Rowan shook her head, realizing that she must have been staring at these people with a crazed expression on her face.

"No," she said. Then she looked at Aiden. His aura was back to normal now, tinged with a little more red than normal since he must be scared and excited to be going on whatever run he was gearing up for. Rowan stepped forward, placing the back of her hand against his forehead. Then she took one of his hands in both of hers.

"You look sick," she said. This was not a question. She stated it very firmly. "Go home and go to bed." Aiden started laughing. Laughing at her. Daryl felt the muscles in his jaw twitch. Rowan was acting a little strange, but that was no reaon for this little shit to start laughing at her. Anyone with ears should have been able to hear the concern in her voice for him.

"Is that an invitation?," Adien asked her. With that she yanked her hands away from him. Tank made no move to threaten Aiden, but he was he was suddenly at Rowan's side, eyeing the man with suspicion. Aiden ignored the dog, walking back over to the van where he started laughing with Nicholas. Unlike his brother, Spencer was not smiling. Aiden might think she was one big joke, but Spencer was a little less skeptical. Several times now, Rowan had warned him before something bad happened. She wasn't crazy. His father's simple explanation for her was that she just felt things a little deeper than most people.

"Rowan," Spencer said, placing his hand lightly on her back, "are you alright?" He hesitated, looking at Daryl and then back at Rowan. He lowered his voice. "Did you see something?" She shook her head.

"No," she said, "I've got to go." She backed away the first few steps. Then she turned and started walking quickly in the other direction. Daryl found himself standing next to Spencer, watching her walk away. The bundle of hair on her head was bobbing up and down. And her dogs walked away with her, keeping close to her sides.

When Daryl was looking at a girl that he was nervous to talk to, his brother had been fond of giving him a hard swift kick in the ass in the right direction. And suddenly that's what he felt like someone had done to him. Before Daryl even knew what he was doing, he was charging down the street after her.


	7. Chapter 7

She could hear Daryl calling out to her, asking her to stop and wait for him. But Rowan ignored him and kept walking, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, the basket of leaves she had picked for tea forgotten in the road near where the van was being loaded up. She brought one hand up, wiping at the hot tears that were threatening to spill out and run down over her cheeks.

Rowan found herself thinking mean and spiteful things about the man that had laughed at her. _They are about to get exactly what they deserve._ But she pushed those thoughts away, making herself think of her mother instead. The habit she had of biting her bottom lip when she was doing a reading and she was going to have to tell someone something they didn't want to hear. Her hand would come up, fingering the tip of the one long braid of copper hair that fell forward over her shoulder. Bad news was always hard to give and take. But the difference was, people listened to her mother. She had been well respected in their small community. Sometimes, people even came from far away places to seek her advice. No one there would have ever laughed at her or asked her if she forgot her medication, like the people here did to Rowan. And even the people here that were too polite to say anything, Rowan could often feel them staring.

The gentle advice of a spiritual leader that her mother had been close with floated into Rowan's mind. Hate only breeds hate. Loving a friend is easy, loving your enemy is divine. She could see the old man now in her mind, his hands still sturdy under the thin veiny skin that covered them. His hair had been white so long he liked to joke and say there wasn't a person alive that remembered what color it was. No matter where he went, it seemed like there were always cats around him, rubbing against his legs and climbing into his lap. The memory calmed her. She refused to think about what happened to him after the dead came.

"Rowan, hey wait up," Daryl called to her again. This time she stopped and waited, her dogs crowded in on both sides of her. Tank and Lily always seemed to know when she needed their comfort and support. They were more than her pets, they were her friends.

Now that he had managed to catch up with her, Daryl wasn't sure what to say. He had not thought this through very well. Daryl heard what Deanna's son said to Rowan when he lowered his voice. _Did you see something?_ He wasn't sure how to even begin to ask her about that, but the look on her face when she heard the question had sent a chill up his spine.

"You alright?," he finally asked. He kicked the toe of his boot into the ground and swiped at the hair that was hanging in his face.

"I'm fine," she lied, "I just, umm... felt sick all of the sudden." Daryl swiped at his hair again and his eyebrows pressed together as he looked at her. She was a damn terrible liar, that was for sure. But he didn't want to press her for more than she wanted to say. Lily left Rowan's side and thrust her head under Daryl's hand.

"You feel okay now?," he asked. Rowan nodded. She stared at her feet, not wanting to meet his eyes with hers. She didn't like to lie. But if she told the truth, she knew what would happen. Daryl would laugh at her, or even worse, he might recoil from her like he thought she was out of her mind. A witch. And she didn't think she could stand that. Not from him.

"I forgot my basket," she said in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

"I'll get it for you," Daryl told her. He took a few steps away and then turned back. "Stay here," he added, not wanting her to take off running again. His words came out sounding more like a question, so she nodded again to let him know she would stay put. Daryl walked back towards the van, smiling when he saw that Lily had decided to accompany him. She trotted along next to him like he had her on an invisible leash. Bending down to pick up Rowan's basket, he stuffed the rest of her scarf into it. Then he heard Lily give a warning bark. Glenn was standing a few feet away, watching the big dog carefully. He nodded towards Rowan, who was standing a little ways down the street waiting for Daryl.

"Who's that?," he asked. He had been surprised when he saw Daryl show up with someone they didn't know. The man had made it clear that he didn't have much interest in getting to know the people here. And Glenn found it rather amusing that the one exception Daryl seemed willing to make was for a pretty girl. It felt good to know he was only human, just like the rest of them. And he had been alone a long time. Too long.

"That's that girl that was at the house last night," Noah announced. "Cool dog," he added. He moved towards Lily, putting his hand out for her to sniff. When he got closer, he heard the dog growling at him and he moved back, standing so Glen was between him and the giant beast. Lily had been trained not to accept new people unless Rowan said they were alright. And as far as she was concerned these people were still strangers that were not to be trusted. Except Daryl who sometimes had food. And now had the smell of Rowan lingering around him.

"Lily," Spencer said, calling the dog over to him, "Go to Rowan." He pointed towards the woman and gave the dog the signal to run. Lily took off like a rocket, and Spencer sighed in relief. The last thing they needed was for Rowan's dogs to bite one of these new people. His mom warned him there had already been some kind of incident the night before. Daryl scowled a little, not liking that another man was commanding Rowan's dog. But then again, Rowan must have taught him her signals.

With the dog gone, Glenn and Noah crowded in, asking Daryl about four hundred questions at once. Who was that woman? How did Daryl meet her? What kind of dogs are those? Why was she saying that weird stuff to Aiden over by the van? Daryl grunted, not really interesting in having this conversation at the moment, or at all.

"Got to go," he told Glenn before he turned and stomped off back down the street, holding the woven basket in his arms. When he got back to where Rowan was, she took her scarf off the top of the basket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then she took the basket from him and balanced it on her hip.

"Those people are all staring at me," she mentioned. Daryl looked behind him, and saw that she was right. Glenn, Tara, Noah and Eugene were all standing that gawking at the two of them. Tara gave them a little wave and a smile.

"They just wanta meet ya," Daryl assured her. Rowan had that scared look on her face again, and she was taking little backwards steps like she might turn and start hauling ass down the street. He put his hand in her arm to steady her. "S'alright, you don't have to," he said. She still looked nervous, but at least she stopped backing away.

"I'm sorry," she said, "that's too many people for me at once." Especially after I was just acting really weird in front of them, she thought. She looked at Daryl to make sure he wasn't going to be upset if she didn't agree to meet his people. He just looked concerned for her, and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in.

Daryl found himself in the same awkward position again, standing there with her and not knowing what to say. Then he had an idea. He smiled at little at Rowan and let the hand that was on her arm move down to circle around her waist.

"How would you like to meet just one person?," he asked. She looked unsure, but then she nodded. If she wanted to spend more time with him, she was going to have to meet the other people in his group eventually. And meeting them one at a time sounded better to her than taking on a whole pack of them at once.

Daryl kept his arm around her waist, touching her lightly through the thin lace fabric of her dress. She had noticed it before, when he put his hands on her waist while they were dancing. He had a gentle touch for someone that looked so rough. Shyness was a quality that she found very attractive in a man. She moved a little closer to him, squeezing the hand on her waist so he would know it was alright for him to leave it there.

Daryl led her back to the same house that he had taken her to the night before. Opening the door just a crack, so the dogs wouldn't be able to charge in, he called out to someone named Carl. When Rowan heard someone inside the house answer Daryl, she snapped her fingers at the dogs and grabbed hold of Lily's collar to keep her from charging ahead.

"Should I leave the dogs out here?," she asked. Daryl looked at them.

"No, you can bring them in," he told her. He didn't want a repeat of the night before. If the dogs were inside the house, at least she could keep an eye on them. Daryl opened the door and went in, moving out of the way so Rowan could get through without letting go of Lily. Tank stayed with her without her having to hold him. Rowan looked around nervously, trying to spot the person that Daryl wanted her to meet.

A teenage boy was standing in the middle of the living room holding a baby. Since there was no one else around, Rowan guessed this was who she was going to meet. She immediately relaxed. A boy and a little baby didn't scare her.

The boy was holding tight to the baby in his arms, looking at her dogs. Rowan made them both sit down, though Lily was wagging her tail, her big butt swishing back and forth in excitement. Then she smiled at the boy, looking at the pretty baby he was holding. It had been so long since she had seen a baby.

"Hey Daryl," Carl said.

"Hey man," Daryl answered, deciding that since he had brought Rowan here, it was up to him to make some sort of introduction, "got someone I want you to meet." Carl looked at the woman in the front hall. Then he looked at her dogs again. He had heard Abraham got jumped on by a vicious dog but these dogs didn't look mean. In fact, the lighter brown one looked rather friendly.

"Stay," Rowan warned Lily again before she drifted into the living room. She held on tattooed hand out to Carl. He stared at the markings on her hand before he reached his hand out and squeezed hers briefly.

"Carl, Rowan," Daryl added since neither of them seemed to be offering anything up, not even their names, "Rowan, Carl."

"Your baby?," Rowan asked the boy, reaching out to rub Judith's arm ligthly with the back of her knuckle. Carl laughed. How old did this woman think he was?

"My sister," Carl corrected. The woman smiled at him again. She had a pretty smile that he was finding it was hard not to respond to. One of her eye teeth stuck out further than the rest. Instead of taking away from her appearance, he found it added to her looks. Then Carl's gaze went back to the two large dogs near the door.

"What kind of dogs are those?," Carl asked. He had never seen dogs that big before. And he was impressed with the way they listened to the woman they belonged to.

"Bullmastiffs," Rowan told him. "I used to breed dogs, back before..." Carl nodded. She didn't need to finish. He knew what before meant. Before the world ended. Dog breeding sounded like a cool job. Something he might like to do. "You want to meet the dogs?," Rowan asked. She could see the boy was curious about them. And she wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to make Lily sit still. Carl nodded. Then he handed Judith off to Daryl. She was used to being held by everyone in the group and didn't seem to have much of a preference for anyone expect Carol and his dad.

Rowan set her basket on the couch and poked around for two small pieces of the dried venison liver that she used as treats. She handed them both to Carl and led him over to her dogs. First she pointed to the happy light brown one.

"This is Lily. You can give her a treat." Carl held one treat out in his hand and the big dog was quick to snatch it up, coating his hand in wet sticky slobber. He wiped his hand off on his pants. "You can pet her now," Rowan told him. Carl smiled, reaching out to pat the dog on the top of it's head. The other dog gave a little bark, unhappy to be ignored by the boy that he knew had another liver treat in his hand. The dogs knew by now that they were to accept and be nice to people that Rowan introduced to them in this way. But they were naturally protective of children. And while this boy was as tall as their mistress, Judith's baby smells lingered strongly around him. He was accepted quickly as part of their extended pack.

"This is Tank," Rowan said. Carl noticed she stayed next to that dog while he fed it. But he was still allowed to give the big dog a quick pet after he fed it. Once she was sure her dogs had no plans to molest the boy, Rowan walked back into the living room to take a look at the small child Daryl was holding in his arms. He looked comfortable holding her, and Rowan guessed she had been held by him many times before.

"Judith," Daryl said, guessing Rowan would want to know the baby's name. Rowan smiled, thinking Judith was a good name for a girl growing up in these uncertain times. The most famous historical character of that name that Rowan could think of was the one that beheaded the general of an invading army while he slept, and took his head back to her people to insire them to rise up and fight for themselves. "Good name," Rowan said softly. She reached out and touched the little girl's arm again, then moved down to took her small hand in hers, rubbing the back of it with her thumb.

Judith was fascinated with the tattoos on Rowan's hand. She grabbed at the woman's slim fingers with both her chubby hands, trying to get hold of the desgins she saw there and pull them off. Then she held her arms out for Rowan to hold her. Rowan took her from Daryl's arms without hesitation. She held the little girl close, kissing her on her round little baby cheeks. The smell of them, their little high pitched bird chippy voices, and the soft white light that radiated out of them, Rowan loved everything about babies. Daryl couldn't help but smile. And he felt proud of himself for thinking to bring her here. She seemed so much more relaxed now. This was a good idea.

"This is your baby?," Rowan asked Daryl. She had assumed that since Daryl wanted her to meet these people, maybe it was because they were his children. She felt very honored to be meeting his family after only knowing him one day. Carl laughed, but Rowan could tell he was laughing at Daryl, not at her for asking the question.

"Nah," Daryl told her, "this is Rick's baby." That might even be up for debate, but he didn't think he needed to get into all the whole Lori Shane and Rick mess right now.

"Where is this baby's mother?," she asked, looking concerned.

"Dead," Carl told the woman.

"Who feeds this baby?," Rowan asked.

"Me, I guess," Carl said. Rowan cast a glance towards his chest and then looked him in the face. It took him a moment to understand what she was implying. But Daryl started laughing right away.

"We feed her formula from a botttle," Daryl explained.

"Mother's milk is best, but goat's milk is better than the powdered stuff," Rowan said. She held the little girl in her arms, boucing her around and making her giggle. Judith had grabbed at one of the feathers Rowan had in her hair and managed to pull it free. Now she was waving it in the air, looking very pleased with herself.

"You see a goat around here?," Carl asked the woman. He felt like she was implying that they were not doing a good job of taking care of Judith and it made him feel bad. But when she turned and smiled at him again he could tell she hadn't meant anything with her remarks.

"Of course not, I keep them out by my trailer."


	8. Chapter 8

The concrete road that led to the back of the neighborhood turned into a dirt road. The grass got longer until it was mixed with wildflowers. The area was clear of large trees, and Daryl guessed that before the turn, whoever had built Alexandria had been getting ready to build another section of the large development. There were still sections of bare trampled dirt that had not been fully reclaimed by nature yet.

Carl pushed along Judith's baby stroller, empty since Rowan still had the small girl in her arms. She carried the girl along on her hip, using one arm to keep her from sliding down. The dogs stayed with them, sniffing at the dirt and running in and out of the tall grass. Once they started getting close to what Carl assumed must be Rowan's small travel trailer, they rushed ahead.

After living in the fine house they had been given in Alexandria, Carl found it odd to see someone living at what was essentially a campsite. Odd, but somewhat comforting. There was the travel trailer he had seen from down the road. It was dingy white on the top half and teal green on the bottom with wheels under it. A little canopy was attached to the side of it. Behind it was the fenced in area where Carl could see a few goats roaming around. There was also a large tent that was set up on top of a few tarps and looked like it had been there for a while.

What Carl was most impressed with was a large and rather authentic looking teepee that was painted up with colored designs and the shapes of animals on the outside. Rowan saw him looking and explained that Reg had helped her build it. Instead of deer hides, they used the sails from a few different sailboats. But other than that she told him it was completely authentic. All three structures were surrounded by small plastic baby pools that were full of dirt and plants. Further away, Carl could see some larger gardens.

In the middle of the small clearing, there was a campfire pit surrounded by several large logs and some scattered chairs. Sitting on the ground with her back against a log was a girl with long brown hair that Carl guessed was about his age. She had a comic book in her hand and a small kitten in her lap. Next to her was a basket like the one Rowan was carrying. Except this one was lined with soft blankets and filled with a litter of multicolored kittens.

The big dogs ran over, mobbing and slobbering on the girl. She produced a rolled up magazine that she clearly kept next to her for this purpose, and started smacking at the dogs with it. Carl expected her to be ripped apart immediately, but the dogs didn't even seem to care. The lighter brown one was intent on disturbing the small kittens and the girl smacked it hard over the head and then again in the face.

"Get back Lily!," the girl said, "stupid dog!" Rowan charged over, shoving at the dogs and yelling at them to go lay down by the trailer. Then she snatched the magazine from the girl's hand and bonked her soundly over the head with it before tossing it into her lap. Carl was worried they might start fighting, but then he saw both of them were smiling.

"Damn Rowan," the girl said, "where'd you snatch that baby from?" Rowan just laughed. Then she turned to Carl and Daryl.

"Enid," she said, pointing down at the girl. The girl gave the man and the boy a glance, looking unimpressed. Then she went back to her comic book. Rowan leaned down and picked up the kitten from the girl's lap. She held it by the scruff of it's neck and placed it back into the basket with the rest of it's siblings. Without warning, she plopped Judith down in Enid's lap, crumpling her comic book. "Hold this baby a minute," Rowan told her.

Before Carl could object to his sister being left at the mercy of a dog beating stranger, Rowan had him by the hand, dragging him over to the goat pen. She opened up the makeshift gate and pulled Carl inside quickly before she shut it. One rather wily looking white goat started toward them from the other side of the enclosure. He had a long white tuft of hair hanging from his chin and a wild look in his eye. Setting his sights on Rowan, he charged at the woman, who squealed as she darted out of his way. Rowan managed to get behind the naughty animal, and once there she grasped him firmly by the horns to keep him from charging at her again. Carl could hear Daryl laughing from outside the fence.

"Which goat do you want?," Rowan asked Carl. Carl looked at the white goat she was holding. It was tossing it's head, trying to get loose so it could have another go at the woman. She was trying to pet it, but the mean bastard was having none of her games. Carl didn't know anything about goats, but he knew enough to guess that that one was an asshole.

"Not that one," Carl told her.


	9. Chapter 9

Carol walked back from visiting Tara at the medical center. She made sure to smile and wave at all the residents of Alexandria that she saw along her way. There were a lot of them and she was having a hard time remembering all of their names. The people here just blended together in her mind, all of them listed under the category of might as well be dead already.

Walking between the houses, Carol headed into the back yard and up the steps on the back porch. Since people went back and forth between the two houses, they had taken to leaving the front doors locked and coming and going using the back doors. Carol stopped, shaking her head a little like she thought she was seeing things. She quickly discovered that she was not going crazy, that there was in fact a goat with a rainbow scarf around it's neck tied to the railing on the back porch. The floppy eared brown and white animal came towards her until it got to the end of the rope. Then started making a bunch of loud goat noises.

"What in the hell," she mumbled to herself under her breath. Carol walked around the goat, making sure to stay out of reach. She tried to go up the stairs in the other side, but no matter which way she moved, the creature was blocking her path. Finally she took a running leap and cleared the rope, landing on the second step and running up onto the porch. She went inside, slamming the door behind her.

A loud flurry of commotion was going on inside the house. Judith was in her playpen screaming like she was being axe murdered. Carl was following Rick around, asking him over and over again if he could go somewhere. Daryl was pacing around in the living room, looking suspiciously clean. Carol picked up Judith to quiet her, but the little girl just kept screaming. She was pointing towards the back door, opening and closing her hands.

"I tole ya, just bring the damn goat back inside," Daryl said, gesturing to Judith.

"It shit all over the place when it was in here before," Rick reminded him. Carol could tell by the way they were talking that this was not the first time the two men had this discussion.

"Its better than listenin' to her holler," Daryl announced. He could not stand the sound of that baby screaming. It would not draw the walkers in from inside this house, but the loud noise made him want to panic anyway.

"Can I go Dad? Daryl's going," Carl repeated.

"GO, go, go wherever you want," Rick finally told the boy, throwing his hands in the air like he was ready to give up. Carl hugged his waist and took off up the stairs, taking them two at a time and stomping like a damn pack of rhinos. Carol spotted a bottle on the kitchen counter and grabbed it for Judith. She usually liked to hold her own bottles, so Carol handed it to her. For her efforts, Carol was rewarded with a direct hit to the face with the full bottle. Then Judith threw the horrid item on the floor and went back to throwing her fit. She was really going now, kicking and screaming and swinging at Carol with her little fists to where Carol could barely keep hold of her.

"That's why we had her in the playpen," Rick said.

"Jus' give her 'ere," Daryl told Carol, taking the screaming child out of her hands and holding her under one arm like she was a kicking sack of potatoes. He walked through the kitchen and out the backdoor. The screaming stopped instantly. Carol followed behind him, standing in the doorway to see what he was doing with the child.

By the time Carol got to the doorway, Judith was already standing on the bottom step with her little arms wrapped around the neck of the rather scraggly looking nanny goat that was tied up to the back porch. She was just hugging her little heart out. What was funny was that the animal didn't seem to mind. Letting go of the goat, Judith sat down on the step and opened her mouth like a baby bird. Daryl held onto the goat by the rope around it's neck and reached underneath, grasping one of it's udders and squirting milk right into Judith's mouth. She clapped her hands and opened her mouth for more.

"Are you sure she should be drinking that?," Carol asked. Goats were dirty animals. Daryl shrugged and shot some more milk into Judith's open mouth.

"Ain't killed 'er yet," he announced. Besides, Rowan already told him it was fine. She said it was better than the powdered formula, and he figured she was right. Carol rolled her eyes. That was man logic when it came to child rearing, that was for sure.

"Where did you get that goat anyway?," she asked. For all she knew, he had caught the animal out in the woods.

"Rowan gave it to Carl," Daryl answered. Rowan, Rowan, Carol racked her brain. She was sure she had heard the name somewhere before. At the party. There was cheese there for the crackers, and Olivia told her that a friend of hers named Rowan helped her make it. That's where she heard the name. And now it was all making sense, Daryl's freshly scrubbed appearance and the funny way he was acting. He must have met a woman, though it was hard for Carol to picture him falling for any of the women in this town. Before she could ask Daryl any more questions, Abraham came out of the house next door and hollered at him.

"Ready to go?," he asked.

"Now we are waiting on Carl," Daryl called back. He squeezed another shot of milk into Judith's mouth. A big tan dog came dashing around the other corner of the house and ran up to Daryl, ignoring the goat and Judith while she sat down to beg for a treat. Abraham said a few choice words and grabbed the handle of his backdoor, ready to dart inside if the big dog came at him again. The big black dog came next, followed by the woman he had seen the night before. She took one look at Abraham and bolted back in the other direction. Unlike most of the people in this town, he didn't need to guess how that girl made it this long, she ran quicker than a damn rat.

"And she's gone again," Abraham said with a laugh, before he called over to Daryl again. "Hey Dixon you are going to need a leash for that one." Abraham leaned over the railing of the porch, looking between the two houses to see if she was still there. She was long gone. He shook his head and smiled. Then he heard a low bark come from the other side of the porch and it made him turn quickly around. The woman was there, peeking up at him from between the wooden railings on the porch with the giant dog beside her. Since he was drunk and rolling around in dog shit, he had not gotten a very good look at her the night before. She had big dark eyes that were rimmed with long lashes and her face was coverered in freckles.

"I'm sorry that my dog jumped on you," she told him, one tattooed hand coming up to grip lightly at one of the wooden railings, "and Tank is very sorry too." The dog growled at Abraham in a way that did not exactly say sorry, but at least it wasn't biting his dick off.

"It's alright," Abraham told her, making her smile. Then she cocked her head to the side and looked him over.

"Are you married?," the woman asked him. He was taken aback for a moment, and her question seemed random and out of place. He wasn't really married, but he used to be, and now he had a girlfriend.

"He's got a girlfriend," Carol called over to the woman. Abraham noticed the woman seemed disapointed and he wasn't sure why. From the way the man had been acting, he was under the impression she was cooking something up with Daryl.

"What's the deal Rowan?," Daryl called over. He was not sure he liked the question that she was asking Abraham, but he figured she had some reason for it. She came out from behind the porch and walked over slowly, keeping a close eye on the people that she didn't know. Abraham noticed she had a funny way of walking that reminded him a bit of a cat or a ballerina.

"Olivia is coming over to eat with us," she said. Then she moved closer so she could smile down at Judith while she stroked the head of the goat she had given them. Daryl felt himself let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. Now her question made sense. He didn't think she was interested in Abraham for herself, but it had made him nervous anyway.

"You wanted to bring a man for 'er to meet?," Daryl asked her. Rowan nodded. Then she cracked a big grin.

"She said she needs a man real bad," she informed them. Lowering her voice a little, she added, "I think she meant for sex." That was about all Abraham could take. He really started laughing. Olivia was that mousy little shy girl that took care of the supplies. He could not imagine her saying something like that, but then again, everyone needed a good fuck every once in a while.


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as Rowan finished dishing out bowls of stew for everyone and handing them around, the rain started coming down in a soft drizzle. Daryl saw Aaron and Eric stand up and head for the big teepee with their food and he figured he might as well do the same. The door was a smallish circle with a flap over it. Inside, the place was bigger than it looked. There were beanbag chairs strew about inside along with lots of blankets and pillows. In the middle was a small fire pit that looked like it got quite a bit of use. After Daryl ducked through the doorway, Aaron touched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Sorry about your friend," he told him. Daryl assumed he meant Noah and he acknowledged the man's comment with a nod of his head. So many people he knew had died. Some died for nothing and others for everything. He knew he ought to feel upset about Noah, but he only felt numb. Like he had lost a pet goldfish instead of the boy Beth had given her life to save.

Outside, Rowan and Olivia were rushing around, trying to get everything inside before the rain got to it. The big cast iron pot they used to make the fry bread was still full of bubbling oil and too hot to move, but everything else could be taken in. Enid was gathering up the kittens, putting them into the basket and trying to keep them from climbing back out. She caught all but one sneaky calico, which Carl snatched up and handed to her. Covering them with the corner of one blanket, she ran them over to the teepee and took them inside before chasing Rowan's dogs back outside. Rowan ran over and opened up the door to the small trailer, whistling for her dogs. They ran inside, making the whole structure shake back and forth with the weight of their movements.

There was a little more panicked scurrying around, but soon everyone was settled down inside the large teepee. Carl looked down at his bowl of stew and the large piece of bubbly cripsy bread. He noticed no one had spoons or forks. Most of the people around him were holding their bowls up close to their mouths and using the bread to scoop the stew into their mouths so he followed their example and did the same. He was sitting silently next to Enid, who had already ignored his feeble attempt to make small talk with her.

The kittens Enid brought in were circling her like a pack of tiny fur covered sharks, using their claws to climb up her back and arms in an attempt to get at the bowl of food she had in her hands. She took them down and shoved them away from her several times each, but they just kept coming back. With a huff, Enid finally got up and grabbed an empty bowl, spooning some broth from the stew pot into it. She set it on the floor near her and sat back down. Carl smiled as he watched the little cats go at the food in the bowl, crowding in around it with their little tails in the air.

"I always wanted a cat, but my mom never let me get one," Carl mentioned. Enid still did not answer him, but she did turn his way and smile instead of ignoring him completely. Rowan had also heard his remark.

"You can have a kitten," she offered. As far as Rowan was concerned he could have all the kittens. They were cute, but they were also starting to become a nuisance. And she figured it would be a lot easier to find homes for them now, while they were still small and fuzzy.

When she had leaned forward to offer Carl a kitten, Rowan bumped into Daryl, was on sitting to her right. She sat back and smiled at him. He was watching her, trying not to be too obvious about it. There were a few people around that she didn't really know yet, mostly Eugene and Abraham. But she seemed much more relaxed than he had seen her before. Even her posture was different, more like when they had been talking alone at the lake together. Eric was sitting on the other side of her and the two of them were playing back and forth, grabbing little chunks of meat from each other's bowls and laughing about it.

Aaron and Eric brought wine, and the bottles were being passed around so people could refill the small jelly jars they were drinking from. Most people were done eating by this time and Rowan got up to take the empty bowls, opening the flap of the door and tossing them outside into a large tupperware to be dealt with later. She pulled her shall up over her head to cover her head and ducked out into the rain. When she returned a few minutes later, she had a large mason jar filled with caramel colored liquid. Taking off her scarf, she hung it on a loop near the door to dangle down until it was dry. Then she set the jar down and shook off like a dog to rid herself of the rest of the rain water.

"Here we go," Eric said quietly to Daryl with a smile. He nodded towards the jar at Rowan's feet.

"What's in that jar?," Daryl asked.

"Apple pie moonshine," Eric told him. Daryl noticed the man quickly emptied the rest of the wine from his glass in preparation for the new drink. Rowan unscrewed the top of the jar and walked around in a circle, giving everyone a full glass of the stuff, except Carl and Enid, who she only poured half a glass each. And that half glass came with a strict warning for them to sip it. She poured for Daryl last, her hand wrapping around his to steady his glass as she poured. Once she poured a glass for herself and sat down, Aaron held his glass in the air in the gesture of a toast and then everyone started sipping at the beverage.

Daryl took a small sip at first. The stuff tasted tart and sweet, but he could tell by how much it burned going down that it was stronger than it seemed. He was going to have to take it easy before he drank too much and made an ass of himself. The little party went on, with people talking and laughing together. Aaron made a small fire in the firepit and Rowan passed the jar around again.

With a little liquid courage under his belt, Daryl was feeling more relaxed and he moved closer to Rowan, putting one arm behind her back. They made some quiet conversation about their lives before the turn. He had figured out by now that she had never had what most people considered to be a real job and he found he didn't mind her knowing that he had never really had one either.

"Being the new recruiter will be a good job for you," Rowan mentioned, "You'll be better at it than I was." Daryl raised and eyebrow at her.

"You were the recruiter?," he asked in disbelief. She nodded.

"Aaron thought people would trust him easier if he had a woman with him," she explained, "but I only went out once. He never took me again after that because I did such a bad job." She was smiling now, thinking about the exasperated look Aaron had on his face during that entire trip. That poor man had been ready to tear his hair out.

"What did you do?," Daryl asked.

"Ran away from all the people he was trying to recruit," she admitted. Daryl laughed, harder than he had laughed in a long time. Too long of a time. He could picture that happening and imagining Aaron's reaction to it had him laughing harder.

"Rowan," Aaron called over to the woman, "you should tell us a story." Rowan shook her head, but this suggestion was met with a lot of enthusiam from Eric and Olivia. Daryl noticed that even the standoffish girl that was about Carl's age seemed to perk up at the suggestion. Rowan shook her head again. She didn't mind telling stories when it was just them, but getting up in front of this many people that she didn't really know made her nervous. And thinking about doing her act in front of Daryl made her even more nervous.

"I'm not really a storyteller," she insisted. Where she was from, being a storyteller was considered a profession. Rowan supposed it was a little like being an actor, like these people used to watch on tv. People practiced and trained at it. She used to get involved in group perfomances, but only for fun. To really be considered good, you had to have a good singing voice, which she did not have.

"What do you mean," Olivia said, "you tell the best stories of anyone I know." Rowan shook her head again, feeling the blush rising in her cheeks. "Tell the one about Persephone," Olivia suggested. Rowan smiled, she knew that one was Olivia's favorite. But she would rather tell it to her later, without so many people around.

Daryl's arm was still around her waist. His thumb moved back and forth, rubbing the curve of her hip through the lace fabric of her dress. He was thinking about the little story she told him that morning out by the lake. She had a way of talking that made him feel like he could see what she was thinking about. Without the booze, he might not have said anything. But he found the words coming out of him before he could stop himself.

"I'd like to hear a story," he told her, leaning close and speaking quietly into her ear. He moved back and her eyes met his. She bit at her lip a moment like she was thinking it over. Once her decision was made, she gulped down the rest of her drink. Then she pouced up onto her feet in one quick motion. Several people started clapping and offering encouragment. Rowan walked over by the entrance where she would have more room. She thought about telling the Persephone story. It was an easy one and she knew it well. But there was another story that she had in mind. Thoughts of it had been coming to her, especially after what happened by the van earlier that day. The story of Cassandra.

Rowan streched her shoulders out a little and took a few deep breaths, collecting her thoughts. This might end up being the drunk version of Cassandra's story, she thought to herself with a smile. She cleared her throat and closed her eyes, centering herself and picturing the throat chakra in her mind. She invisioned the blue circle, just a tiny ball inside the base of her throat. Growing bigger and bigger, it became a whirling hoop twisting around her like a floating necklace.

When she started talking, Rowan used her hands along with her voice to tell the tale, sometimes throwing in a small dance step. The unusual accent she had got thicker. As he listened, it occured to Daryl after what Rowan told him earlier about her father's heritage that maybe her accent was unfamiliar because it was a Sioux accent. Daryl was not the only one listening closely to her words. Carl had not said anything, but at first he had thought that the idea of someone telling a story was rather childish. Before long, he found himself wrapped up in the story like he could imagine it happening.

Cassandra was a princess of Troy, the daughter of King Priam and the sister of Paris and the great warrior Hector. King Priam had many daughters, but Cassandra was the most beautiful of all her sisters. When she took the virgin robes to serve the god Apollo the young men in the city wept a river of tears.

But even in the temple, her beauty did not go unnoticed. The god Apollo himself came down from Mount Olympus to gaze upon her as she cleaned the floors. He took the shape of a handsome man, clothed only in a white cloth about his waist, his long blonde hair shining like the sun even in the dark shadows of the temple.

Though she was drawn to the man, Cassandra was devout. She turned him away, refusing his advances. That night while she slept, Apolla took the shape of a snake. He crept into her room and whispered in her ear, blessing her with the gift of prophecy. It was Apollo's belief that if Cassandra could see the future, she would know what a passionate lover he would be. She would give herself to him willingly.

Cassandra woke with the gift of sight. But she saw more than Apollo intended. She saw them together in a sensual embrace. But she also who the man really was and what would happen after she gave in to his burning demands. He was a god. Once he had her, he would quickly grow bored and return to Olympus. She would be left with a child inside her. A demigod that would kill her when it came time for the child to be born.

Apollo returned to the temple the next day. He took Cassandra into his arms, but once again she refused him. Instead she offered him only a chaste kiss. In a fit of rage at being refused, Apollo spit into her mouth, cursing her. He did not take away the gift he had given her. Instead he cursed her, making it so that her prophecies, while true, would never be believed by any mortal man.

Cassandra knew of the curse. She kept the things she saw secret. Even when her brother Paris set forth for Sparta and she knew he was going to steal Menelaus's wife Helen and start the war to end all wars, she said nothing.

But the night the trojan horse was wheeled into the streets of Troy, Cassandra could no longer be silent. She knew of the warrior's hidden inside and of their plan to open the tall gates of Troy and let in the rest of their hidden army. She grabbed a torch and ran towards the horse, intending to light it aflame and kill the soldiers hidden inside. But her father's guards stopped her. Believing she was insane, they locked Cassandra in the highest tower. From the barred window, she watched her city burn.

With her story finished, Rowan gave a little bow. It took people a moment to gather their thoughts and then most of them started clapping for her. Olivia had tears in her eyes that she was wiping away with the corner of her shirt. Daryl even found himself slapping his hands together a few times, though the story was strange and sad and had sent a shiver up his spine during the part when the god dude spit in that poor girl's mouth.

Rowan gave another little bow and then returned to her seat, feeling the strange emptiness she always felt after a story poured out of her. That one had taken on a life of its own during the telling and she had found herself identifying with the doomed herione more than she intended. There was a strange awkwardness in the room, with no one knowing quite what to say to follow up her little performance. Then a loud snort sounded from one side of the teepee. Rowan looked around for the source of the noise and found herself giggling almost instantly. Abraham was leaned back in a large beanbag chair, snoring with his mouth open.

 **** I love a story within a story so I decided to try and write one. I did not make up Cassandra, there are lots of greek mythology stories about her. I read a few and then made up my own version that I felt fit with the theme of this story. To know the future and never be believed would be the worst curse of all, which is kind of what Rowan is going through living in Alexandria. Thanks to everyone that has taken time to write a review and I hope you all are enjoying the story. ****


	11. Chapter 11

One small white and grey kitten had found it's way up the side of Abraham's bean bag chair. It was curled up in the crook of his neck with it's tail tucken in, sleeping away despite the volume of his snoring. Rowan leaned over him with a blanket. She covered up Abraham and then used one corner of the blanket to tuck the little kitten in.

Aaron and Eric had headed for home shortly after Rowan finished her story. They walked close together, with Aaron holding one jacket over both their heads to keep the rain off. Eugene was on his feet, stuttering and stammering at Olivia. He was nervous, trying to think of a way to invite himself back to her house without being too pushy about it. Rowan laid her hand on his arm and he felt a strange calm wash over him.

"Olivia's house is all the way on the other side of town and it's dark out," Rowan told him, "I'm sure she would appreciate it if you walked her home." She took her hand away, but the strange calm feeling remained. He had no reason to be nervous. Rowan gave him a smile and then hugged Olivia tightly and said goodnight to her. She also whispered something into the other woman's ear that Eugene couldn't hear. Whatever it was, it made Olivia smile. Rowan fluttered away and Olivia moved closer, taking his arm. Daryl watched them leave together.

"I better check on Carl," Daryl said with a sigh. There were other things he would rather be doing than playing babysitter, but he had promised Rick he would keep an eye on the boy. Carl had disappeared with that quiet girl a few minutes before. Daryl thought he was just helping her with the cats, but then he had not come back. Ducking under the flap, Daryl stepped outside. He was surprised how much the temperature had dropped since the last time he had been outside. Looking around, he tried to figure out where Carl might had gone. There was a light on inside the large camping tent so Daryl headed that way. As he got closer, he could hear some muffled laughter coming from inside.

Circling the tent, Daryl peeked through one of the flaps on a screen window that wasn't zipped all the way down. Carl and the girl were crowded in near a lantern, looking a comic books. The kittens were out of the basket and one of them was under Carl's hat, it's little paw shooting out to swipe at another kitten that it was playing with. That must have been what the laughter was about, Daryl thought. He thought about sending Carl home, but decided to let him stay even though he would likely catch some hell from Rick about it later. Carl was in a tent alone with a girl, but the activites going on inside said tent looked innocent enough. Daryl figured it would be good for Carl to make a friend his own age, and maybe good for the girl too.

"See anything you like?," Rowan asked. Daryl jumped, startled to hear her voice so close when he had not known she was there. She smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Daryl smiled back at her. She didn't look very sorry with that little smirk on her face. "What are they doing in there?," she asked.

"Reading comics and playing with kittens," Daryl said. He looked at Rowan. She had her shawl draped over her, but it wasn't doing her much good out in the cold rain. He put an arm around her and headed for the little awning attached to the side of her trailer. She headed up the steps to open the door, but the dogs must have heard or smelled her outside, because one of them charged at the door. The whole trailer shook and Rowan slipped backwards, her damp sandals offering no traction againt the slick wood of the steps.

She felt Daryl's strong arms go around her, saving her from what would have been a very muddly fall. He got her steady on her feet, but he didn't let go of her. She looked up into his eyes. Out by the lake in the light of day they had been clear and blue. But in the moonlight they were shining black and deep enough to drown in. The little red lighting flashed around his head grew and expanded, becoming a cloud that engulfed them both. The shawl she was wearing like a hood fell back as she trailed one hand slowly up his arm until it came to rest at the base of his neck, twining into his hair. Her other hand went between them, her palm pressing flat against the middle of his chest to feel the beating of his heart.

Rowan's hand was in the position that would normally be used to push someone away, but instead it felt more like she was pulling him closer. She closed her eyes like she was listening for something, little drops of rain still sparkling in her eyelashes. Her chin was tilted up and as his eyes moved down to her mouth he saw the tip of her tounge flick out to wet her lips.

Moving one hand down, he rubbed the small of her back. His other hand was between her shoulder blades, pulling her closer. Time seemed to slow down in that moment and he couldn't see anything except the small details of her. The chipped polish on her fingers. How long and dark her eyelashes were. And the way the tip of one slim finger had found its way between the buttons of his shirt to rub against the bare skin of his chest. Just that small touch of her skin in his set his nerves on fire all the way down to his toes and back up to his groin, making his pants feel much tighter than they had been a few moments before.

He kept his eyes open until his lips were pressed against hers. She kissed him back, the hand she had in his hair gripping tighter. Under her palm, she could feel his heart beating harder as his hips pressed into hers. The hand on her back pulling her body tight against his. She felt the tickle of the hair in his face as his tounge touched her lips. Parting her lips, she allowed him entry into part of her body for the first time. The kiss was making her head spin, and she found she was as eager to get a taste of him as he was to get a taste of her.

This was far from her first time being kissed, Rowan had other lovers before. But it was the first time she felt like she was losing herself in a kiss. The strength of her feelings and how strong her desire was to take this man into her bed frightened her. She pulled back, letting go of his hair and resting both of her hands on his shoulders. Rowan thought about what to say, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want Daryl to think she didn't like him, because she did. A lot. But she also needed to get rid of him in a hurry before she did something she might regret.

"I'd like to take you to bed," she said, "just not tonight." She bit at her bottom lip and shifted her weight from one foot to the other nervously. Why had she just blurted that out like that. She was looking down at her feet now, which she really couldn't see since they were standing so close together. "Is that okay?," she asked, her eyes moving up to his face so she could see how he was feeling.

"It's okay," he assured her. While he wanted to her, more than he wanted any woman that he could remember, he was nervous. The way she was kissing him, he almost shot his load off in his pants like he was Carl's age instead of a grown man. If he had known all this was going to happen, he would have beat the fuck off before he came over. Maybe more than once.

He leaned down to kiss her. Just a soft brush of the lips before he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his chest. Then he forced himself to let her go. "See you tomorrow?," she asked him, sounding hopeful. He nodded. Then he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped one out, lighting it before he left the area under the awning and stepped out into the rain.

Rowan didn't head inside right away. She hugged her shawl around her shoulders and watched Daryl disappear into the dark. Closing her eyes, she brought her fingertips up to touch her lips. She heard it then, the small sad cries of someone in pain. The sound was not something she heard with her ears, but something she felt with her heart. She hadn't heard it before because Daryl was there, turning everything else into background noise. Concentrating hard now, she waited to see if she could hear the cry again. She did not, but she had a feeling she already knew where it was coming from.


	12. Chapter 12

****Thanks to everyone who took the time to write a review, I am excited that everyone seems to be enjoying the story. I know so far this has been pretty PG and at some point it will be taking a turn into the R rated. I don't want to spoil it by putting a warning before that chapter, so consider this your warning. ****

The music was loud and it did nothing to drown out the pain he was feeling. Listening to it did not make Spencer feel closer to his brother, it just made him more angry at Aiden for acting like a stupid boasting jerk and getting himself killed. Thankfully his dad yelled over the loud booming noise, telling his mother to turn it off. The room went deadly silent. And when he looked up, she was just there like she had appeared out of thin air.

Her hair and clothes were soaked. She was dripping water, leaving a puddle underneath her on the wooden floor. On either side of her, her dogs sat as still as statues. For just a moment, Spencer thought he was seeing things. But then Rowan crossed the room, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind her across his mother's clean floor.

Rowan ducked around a chair, heading straight for Deanna. She threw her arms around the woman. Rowan was soaking wet, and as usual she smelled faintly of dogs and oranges. But Deanna found herself hugging the young woman back, even tighter than she was being held. When Rowan spoke, Deanna expected to hear more of the same meaningless condolences that she had been recieving all day. Instead, the woman told her something else.

"Someone left a stink fish casserole dish on the porch," Rowan informed her.

"I'm not really very hungry," Deanna told her. Even the thought of trying to put food into her mouth made her feel sick.

"That's good, 'cause Lily and Tank already ate it." Spencer's dad made a little snorting noise. And his mother started to laugh before she could stop herself. Once her emotions started to release, her laughter turned quickly to tears that ran down her face and into the wet blanket of Rowan's hair.

Deanna had been hugged before. She hugged her sons as often as they would let her. And of course her husband held her from time to time. But she always felt like people were in a hurry to let go of her. Rowan held her and let her cry as long as she needed to. The young woman did not let go of her until Deanna let go first. When Deanna let go if her, Rowan turned and headed for Reg, climbing into his chair with him like she was a small child instead of a grown woman the same age as his oldest son. He hugged her with both arms and kissed her on the forehead.

"Good lord Rowan," he exclaimed, "you are soaked to the bone." She was dripping wet and he could feel she was starting to shiver. With that remark, both dogs ran in and started shaking off, throwing little drops of water everywhere. "Spencer," Reg told his son, "take Rowan upstairs and find some dry clothes for her. And get some towels for the dogs." Spencer nodded and got up from the couch, actually feeling a little relieved to have something to do besides sit on the couch and watch his parents fall apart.

He offered Rowan a hand and she took it, letting him help her out of the chair she was sitting in with his dad. She looked down at herself, noticing for the first time that she was soaking wet from head to toe. And her feet felt so cold they were almost numb. She followed Spencer lead her up the stairs.

He went towards his room first, intending to give her something of his to put on. The thought of what she might look like in one of his shirts was very appealing. But he was so much taller than her. Something of his mother's might work, but for some reason he didn't like the idea of Rowan in one of his mother's stuffy outfits. Then it came to him. They had a whole room of clothes that no one needed now. And Aiden was much shorter than him.

Rowan watched Spencer. He stood in his own doorway with a thoughtful look on his face. Instead of going inside the room he headed for Aiden's room instead and flipped on the light. He dug through the dresser, finding her a warm pair of socks, flannel pajama pants, and one of Aiden's favorite shirts that said ROTC on the front of it and army strong on the back. He handed the clothes to her and get her a towel for her hair out of the hall closet.

"Thank you," Rowan told him, taking the bundle from his hands. She went down the hall to the room she sometimes used to sleep in. Hanging her wet things up to dry, she put on the clothes that Spencer had given her. Clothes that belonged to no one now that Aiden was dead. Pulling the shirt over his head, she had a flash of the time she had seen him wearing it. She had been in the kitchen with him and Spencer while Reg cooked them all eggs for breakfast. That was back when Aiden was still being nice to her and they had been passing a big jug of juice back and forth between them, drinking straight from the container. Later, when she had let him know in no uncertain terms that she was never going to sleep with him, he had stopped being so friendly.

When Rowan came out, Spencer was still in the hall waiting for her. He looked so sad, and instead of his usual bubble of green and purple, he was surrounded in a misty cloud of grey. She wished there was something she could do to take away his pain. But he was just going to have to make room for it. That would only come in time. He looked down at his feet.

"I know you don't like me like that," he said to her, "but do you think I could get a hug?" Rowan felt the tears well up in her eyes. She rushed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaned her towel wrapped head against his chest. Her other necklaces, she left on the bed in the other room, but her crystal was still hanging around her neck on the outside of Aiden's shirt.

Spencer's hand came up, taking the crystal in his hand and rubbing his thumb over it like he had seen Rowan do a thousand times. The rock was well worn and felt soothing in his hand. He knew it was special to her, and he had always wondered what it meant.

"It was my mother's," Rowan told him, like she could sense his question before he asked it. "She's gone now. Like your brother."

"You knew something bad was going to happen to him today, didn't you?," Spencer asked. Rowan stepped back from him, the crystal sliding out of his hands. The look and her face, he recognized it. She made the same face whenever someone was around that she didn't know or trust. His question scared her.

"I didn't know," she insisted.

"You saw something when you looked at him," Spencer said. This time it was a statement, not a question. She shook her head, running her thumb back and forth across the crystal like he had been doing just a moment before. Spencer stepped forward, putting his hand around hers to still the movement of her fingers. He had not meant to scare her. Spencer knew what people in this town said about Rowan. That she was crazy, or a witch, or both. They were nothing but a bunch of ignorant stupid assholes.

"Whatever happened to Aiden today, it was his fault, not yours," Spencer told her firmly. Then his eyes caught hers with a pleading look. "Please tell me what you saw."


	13. Chapter 13

Reg woke up, rubbing at his eyes before he reached for his glasses and slid them onto his face so he could see. The tiniest bit of light was coming in through the shades, so he knew it was the very early morning. It was too early to be awake, but he knew he would not be able to fall back asleep. Reg swung himself out of bed carefully so that he would not wake his wife. She had fallen asleep in his arms after she cried herself out over the death of their youngest son. Reg held her against his chest and fell asleep listening to the soft tinkling of Spencer and Rowan's voices drifting up from the kitchen. He guessed the two of them had been up late into the night and probably devoured every scrap of snack food in the house.

His sons were far too old for Reg to still be checking on them when they were in bed, but he found it was a habit that he could never shake. A fresh wash of sadness came over him and he realized he only had one son to check on now. The door to Spencer's room was cracked open and Reg glanced inside to find a bed that had clearly not been slept in. He raised one eyebrow, thinking there was another bed his son might be found in.

Back down the hall he crept, cracking open the door to the room that Rowan slept in when she chose to stay the night under a real roof. Reg had to admit, he hoped that he might find the two of them in bed together. He wanted his son to find the same happiness Reg had with his mother. And Rowan was gentle and kind enough to make any man happy. But that bed was also empty and unrumpled.

Now Reg was starting to get a little worried. He figured they might have fallen asleep downstairs or even gone back to Rowan's trailer. But as he headed down the hall, he noticed the door to Aiden's room was shut. Easing it open, what Reg saw inside made a soft smile appear on his face. Aiden had a queen sized bed in his room. Rowan was under the covers and Spencer was on top of them, covered in one of Aiden's hooded sweatshirts. Rowan's big tan dog was between them and Tank was sprawled across the foot of the bed. He raised his giant head, sensing that someone was there. When he saw it was only Reg, the sleepy sentinel closed his eyes and snuggled closer to Rowan's feet.

Down in the kitchen Reg found the mess he had expected. There were crumbs everywhere, and muddy dogprints all over the floor. A mostly empty jar of peanut butter with a spoon sticking out of it was sitting on the counter. Reg smiled, knowing that had been the work of his son, the accomplished peanut butter thief. He would be surprised if they both didn't have a belly ache this morning, especially Rowan, who usually didn't eat a lot of processed foods. She had never even had an oreo until she came to stay with them. And there was an empty package of the chocolate cookies in question on the table that Reg knew had still been at least a third of the way full the day before.

While he cleaned up the mess and got ready to make some breakfast, Reg had to laugh at himself. When he found Spencer's bed empty, his mind went straight to thinking that the two young people had been engaging in some sort of sexual activity. When really all they had been doing down here was raiding the kitchen like two small naughty mice. The knowledge left him shaking his head and feeling like a bit of a pervert.

"Morning," Rowan told him. She was leaning on the doorframe, scratching at her head. Her hair looked like the wild wamoose had gotten to it while she was sleeping. The wamoose was an imaginary creature that Deanna made up back when the boys were little. She used to tell them that once they fell asleep, the creature ran around in their hair all night. That's why their hair was always so messy and needed to be brushed in the morning before school. Reg had not thought about those silly stories in a long time, maybe years. He wasn't sure why it had come to mind now, maybe because he had been thinking about Aiden and what he had been like as a child.

"You want some breakfast?," Reg asked her. Rowan shook her head, her face looking a little more pale than usual under the freckles. She yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth.

"No, my stomach hurts," she said, "I think I'm going home and drink some herbal tea." Reg had to stop himself from laughing. He knew now he was right about who ate all those oreos. Rowan crossed the kitchen and opened the door so her dogs could run out. But before she left, she walked back over and gave Reg a big hug.

"In case I didn't say last night," she told him, "I'm so sorry about Aiden."

"Thank you," Reg told her, hugging her back. She tilted her head up to look at him and took one of his hands in hers.

"I knew a very wise man once," Rowan told him, pressing her palm to his cheek, "He used to say that we all come from god and back to him we shall return, like a drop of rain flowing into the ocean." Really the man used to say that from the goddess we were born and to her we would return. But Rowan thought it might be more comforting for Reg to think of Aiden in the arms of the god he knew, who in the greater scheme of things was just another aspect of Gaia, the mother of all life.

"That's very poetic," Reg told her. What she said did make him feel more at peace with what happened. It was better to think of Aiden going back home rather than lying dead in a warehouse somewhere. He put his hand over Rowan's, holding it his cheek for one more moment before she pulled it back and headed out the door after her dogs. "Don't be a stranger," he called after her.

Abraham woke up around the same time Reg did. He had a splitting headache and his mouth was dry as an old bone. He heard a soft purring coming from his chest and opened his eyes to see a small grey and white kitten lying there. Picking the little furball up, he set it on the ground, only to find that it was not going to be so easily dismissed. It climbed right back up and tried to curl up on his chest again. He put it back on the ground stood up, looking around for something to drink.

The kitten followed him, making little high pitched noises. It clawed at his ankles like it wanted to be picked up again. When he went outside, it climbed the fabric of the teepee and launched itself into the dirt so it could follow him.

Outside, Abraham found a few large gallon jugs of water and he tipped one up to get a drink, so thirsty that he didn't want to take the time to look for a cup. The kitten was circling his legs, rubbing it's warm body against him. Bending down, he picked up the small creature and took a look at it. He had never been much of a cat person, but it did have a cute little face.

"You can have it," Enid told him, "Rowan said we can only keep one of the kittens. Got to give the rest away." She did not wait for Abraham's reaction. Instead, she just continued on her way through the camp, heading for the goat enclosure like he wasn't even there. Abraham shrugged and tucked the kitten into the crook of his arm. Then he started off for home and a hot shower.

When he got to the area where the road turned back into pavement, he passed Rowan coming from the opposite direction. She was wearing ill fitting men's pajamas and carrying the clothes she had been wearing the night before over her arm. Her hair was jumbled up around her head and sticking out funny on one side. Well good for Daryl, he thought, assuming the woman must be doing the walk of shame back from having gone home with the man the night before. Rowan didn't say anything, but she gave Abraham a little nod before she skirted around him and whistled for her dogs to keep them from bothering him.

Abraham was heading for home, but changed course and walked over to the medical center where he guessed Rosita was. She was sitting in a chair near Tara's bedside, sipping on what smelled like a strong cup of coffee. Looking to see who had come in, Rosita saw it was him and gave him a dirty look before turning back to Tara.

"And where were you last night?," she asked him. She crossed her arms over her chest, not looking in his direction. He had been gone all night and he smelled like booze. And he had not even bothered to tell her where he was going before he left.

Abraham smiled at her back, remembering the small kitten in his arms. Rosita had not noticed it yet. He grasped it by the scruff of its neck. "You want to know what I was doing last night?," he asked her. Then he held the kitten in front of her face before lowering it into her lap. Her hand came up to hold the little bundle, and he could see she was trying not to smile. "I was gettin' me a little pussy."


	14. Chapter 14

Even though she had gotten up earlier than she usually did, the morning flew by. Rowan took care of her goats. Then she used the rain barrel next to her trailer to wash her hair and body. Pulling the milk she got from the goats in a little wagon behind her, she sipped on the herbal tea she made to soothe her stomach while she walked over to meet Eric at Olivia's house.

The three of them spent the rest of the morning making cheese and baking rosemary fococcia bread and potato rolls. Rowan did not ask Olivia what had happened the night before with the man that walked her home. But she could tell that whatever it was, it had been good. Olivia was smiling even more than usual and from time to time Rowan got a little flash of her aura, sunny yellow and pink in a cone around her head and shoulders. The happy mood was catching and the kitchen smelled amazing. When she stepped outside, Rowan could still smell the fresh bread in her hair.

Eric told Rowan that Aaron and Daryl had plans to work on some motorcycle Aaron had. He noticed the woman's face light up when he mentioned Daryl's name. So he suggested that the two of them head over to Eric's house, and maybe make some lunch for them. Rowan and Eric didn't hold hands while they walked, but they linked their pinky fingers, swinging their arms and making each other laugh. Rowan's dogs made sure to stay very close to them, sniffing at the bundle of good smelling food that Eric had in his arms.

The garage door was open when they got there. Daryl was sitting on the floor, working on the bike, while Aaron sat nearby, watching him and trying to make conversation. Aaron smiled at Rowan and Eric, getting up to take the bundle she was carrying. Then he and Eric went to take the food inside, in a not so subtle attempt to leave Rowan and Daryl alone together.

"I came over to make you lunch," she told him. He glanced up at her before he could stop himself. She was in a long fringed buckskin shirt with a leather belt around the waist. The top she had on looked like a cross between a tank top and a bra, and a lot more of her cleavage was showing than he had seen before, plus a healthy section of her midriff. Her hair was hanging down in two long pigtail braids, the ends of them tied up with what looked like little pieces of fringe that she had pulled off her skirt. Daryl had been convincing himself that he must have been embelishing her looks in his mind, but now that he saw her again, she was even better looking than he remembered. And she was smiling at him like she was really happy to see him.

Rowan stood there a moment, feeling more and more awkward when he didn't respond to her. She looked down, fingering at the fringe on the side of her skirt. She had not expected him to just sweep her up in his arms, but a hello would be nice. He was acting like something was wrong, and she didn't know what it might be. Maybe he was just busy working on the bike and didn't want to be interrupted.

"If you're too busy, I can just leave it on the counter for you," she offered. He snorted, yanking harder than necessary at the handle of the wrench he was using.

"I think you're the one that's too busy," he told her, "busy acting like a whore." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he already wanted to take them back. He peeked through his hair to get a look at her, and then he really wished he could take it back. She didn't have the gulity look he had been expecting from someone that had slept with another man and walked home wearing his clothes. In fact, she looked like she had no idea what the hell he was talking about. She started backing away from him, a sad and fearful look in her eyes.

Rowan had no idea what was going on or why Daryl had suddenly called her a very nasty word. But she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She had been stupid to think that he liked her, or that he was different from the other men she had met here. Now she was glad she hadn't slept with him. And she wasn't going to stand there and let him see how much he hurt her either. Instead she ran. She ran as fast as she could in her long skirt, hiking it up with her hands so she could run faster. Her dogs, thinking this was some fun game, raced along next to her snapping and barking at each other. By the time she got to her little camp, she couldn't even see where she was running through the tears.

"Hey Rowan I think we forgot the..." Eric started to say, peeking his head out into the garage. He stepped all the way out and looked around. "Where'd Roe go?," he asked. Since there was no one else around, Daryl assumed the man must be talking to him.

"She ran off again," he said, hoping that would be enough of an explanation. Of course it wasn't.

"What happened?," Eric asked him without missing a beat.

"Nuttin'," Daryl said, his voice low and angry sounding, "told her what I thought about her sleepin' around and she took off." Daryl glanced at Eric, who was looking at him like he was a special kind of stupid.

"Sleeping around?," Eric repeated like he didn't understand English. Rowan had not slept with a single man since she got to Alexandria. And it wasn't due to lack of offers.

"Abe fuckin' saw her this mornin'," Daryl insisted, "walkin' home in some other dude's clothes." Abraham had thought that she had stayed over with Daryl and had offered him a hearty congratulations. It had taken a few minutes for Daryl to put two and two together and then he had gotten pissed. She had been playing all innocent with him, telling him she wasn't ready yet. He had eaten that shit up with a damn spoon, lying in his bed all night thinking about her. And really she had just been in one big hurry to go meet some other fucking dude. He should have known. She was too pretty for him, too smart and sweet. No way was he going to land a girl like that. Not at the end of the world. Not in any fucking world.

"She went over to Deanna's last night," Eric said, "She was worried about them because a family member of their's died yesterday. Her clothes got wet in the rain on the way over and Spencer gave her some of Aiden's old clothes to wear." Daryl stopped what he was doing, the wrench falling out of his hands and clanging onto the floor.

"How do you know that?," he asked Eric.

"Because she told me about it this morning when we were making cheese." Eric crossed his arms and looked at Daryl. He didn't even know what the man had said to Rowan, but he was not impressed that someone had been mean to his friend.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckin' hell," Daryl swore, picking the wrench back up and hurling it at the bike. Then he got to his feet and stomped off down the street in the direction he had seen Rowan go. She must have started hauling ass once she got out of the garage because he didn't see her anywhere. He walked back to her camp, hoping that's were she went. Otherwise it was going to take him all damn day to find her.

When Daryl got back to her camp, Rowan was no where to be seen. But her dogs were lying around in the campfire area, so he knew she couldn't be too far away. Her friend Enid was sitting against a log, reading a comic.

"You seen Rowan?," he asked her. She did not even look up. Instead she just called him an asshole and then promptly went back to ignoring him. He took a deep breath and ignored her comment. Then he ran over, lifting the flap in the teepee and looking inside. No Rowan. And she wasn't in the tent or the trailer either. He swore a few more times. He was going to have to get that bratty girl to tell him where she went.

"Where is she?," Daryl asked her, trying to be as nice as possible.

"Fuck you," Enid told him. He sighed. This was not going very well. Then he got an idea. He sat down on the log next to the girl.

"Okay then," Daryl told her, "I will just sit here with you and wait for her to come back." That got her attention. She even looked up from her book long enough to roll her eyes at him. Then she pointed to a tall tree over near the edge of the wall. The tree itself was on the other side, but lots of it's branches hung over the wall.

"She's in her thinking tree," Enid told him, "that's where she goes when she gets UPSET." She said the last part like it was another curse word directed towards him. But at least she told him where Rowan was. Daryl got up and headed for the big tree.

He stood on the ground and looked up into the branches. High up, he spotted a colorful hammock. From the way it was hanging, he could tell someone was inside it. First he thought about trying to climb up the tree. But she was pretty high up and he wasn't sure he could make it without breaking his neck. He was going to have to see if he could get her to come down instead.

"Rowan?," he called up to her.

"Go Away!," she yelled down. He could tell by the hitch in her voice that she had been crying.

"Can you come down here please?"

"No," she yelled again. There was a pause and then she added, "You are not a very nice person and I don't want to be your friend anymore." If he wasn't already in a bad situation, Daryl might have laughed at that. He had been called a lot of things in his day, but never a not-very-nice-person. He had a feeling that was Rowan's idea of an insult.

Daryl kicked at the dirt, trying to think about what to say next. He pulled out a cigarette and lit the end of it with a match. Like the day before when he had gone after her down the street, for some reason his brother came to mind. Unlike him, Merle never had a problem getting a woman. And if he found one he wanted to sleep with more than once, which had actually happened more often than one might imagine, he had spent a lot of his time apologizing. I'm sorry I didn't call. I'm sorry I slept with that other woman. I'm sorry you must have gotten that from a toilet seat.

"I'm sorry for what I said," Daryl called up to her, "I was angry."

"Liar." Rowan knew he had acted in anger. But that was not how he was really feeling. She had seen it in his face and all around him. "You were not angry, you were upset." Daryl shook his head. He supposed he was upset. Upset and jealous. And his feelings were hurt. When he thought she had sent him home so she could meet another man, it made him feel like a fool.

"Alright, I was upset," he admitted, "will you come down now?" He knew no one was around to see, but he was starting to feel stupid. Like he was standing around talking to a tree.

"First you tell me why you called me that bad name," she told him.

"Come down first please," he asked. There was no response at first, but then he saw the hammock start to move. Thank fucking god, he thought. Rowan climbed out of her swing. Her long skirt was folded in half so it only came halfway down her thighs. She did that in a hurry so she would be able to climb her tree without changing her clothes. From the way she moved around, Daryl could tell she got up and down from this tree often. Finally, she swung so she was hanging from her arms off the lowest branch and then dropped to the ground. Rowan stood up and flipped her skirt back down, smoothing the fringe. Then she crossed her arms and looked at Daryl with her mouth pursed up like she was smelling something bad.

"I'm sorry," he said again, "Abe said he saw you walking home early this mornin' in some other man's clothes. I guess I might have jumped to thinkin' the wrong thing." Rowan narrowed her eyes and looked at him. At least he seemed to have some sort of explanation for his behavior. And he did seem sincere about his apology.

"Maybe you could just ask me next time if you hear something that sounds wrong," she suggested. Daryl nodded his head. He liked the sound of the next time part, which implied there might be one. And her request was not unreasonable.

"I can do that." Now she nodded, lifting her hand and twisting the end of one of her braids between her fingers. Then she glided slowly towards him and let him take her into his arms. He held her tightly, leaning his head down to rest his head on her shoulder. Rowan wasn't sure how to deal with Daryl. He was not like the men she had been with before.

The men she had become close with in the past had all been from her community or her father's reservation. Those men had been open with their emotions. Not to say that she had not had the occasional disagreement with someone she was involved with, but she had never had one over such an obvious misunderstanding. And none of them had ever thought to call her such a nasty name. Not even that young Sioux man she had been lovers with for one long hot summer. And he had been extremely upset when she had not agreed to marry him even though her father had already given his consent.

Normally, someone acting so nasty would be a deal breaker for her. But Daryl was the first man she met in a long time that she liked. And she kept thinking about the way he kissed her. He was a keeper. But Rowan wanted to make sure that what happened today would not happen again. If they were going to be together, she planned to treat Daryl with kindness and respect. And that's what she expected in return. But she wasn't sure how to get her point across. Daryl was not like the men she knew before. She figured maybe she needed to relate to him in a way he could understand. The way of his people. Daryl felt Rowan kiss him on the neck before she pulled back and looked at him. The corners of her mouth were turned up in a rather devious looking smile.

"Daryl," she said, making sure she had his full attention. He nodded, curious now to see what she was about to say. From her expression, it looked like it was going to be good.

"If you ever call me a name like that again," she informed him, "I will sick my dogs on you."


	15. Chapter 15

**** I just wanted to say hi to all my new followers on this story and thank you to everyone that has taken the time to leave a review. You are all awesome and I am excited that everyone seems to be enjoying the story so far. ****

Eating lunch with Eric and Aaron had been slightly awkward. Despite Rowan's assurances that everything was fine now, Eric had given Daryl a few dirty looks during the meal. As soon as she was done eating, Rowan made up a rather flimsy excuse for needing to leave. Really she was tired from staying up most of the night talking to Spencer about his brother and she wanted to go home and take a nap.

Daryl walked her to the door, also eager to get away from the table. She let him hold her, putting her arms around his waist. She could tell by the way he was holding her, that he was thinking about kissing her, but this wasn't really the place or the time for that. One of her wrists brushed against the bandana that he always seemed to be hanging out of his back pocket. Feeling it there gave her an idea and she lifted it slowly and carefully out of his pocket so he wouldn't feel it, crumpling it up into a ball in her fist.

"See you later," Rowan told him as she pulled out of his arms and headed out the door. The tone of her words sounded strange to Daryl, like she knew something he didn't. Halfway down the stairs she turned back and smiled at him, looking a bit like the cat that got the canary. He shook his head and stayed in the doorway, watching her for another minute. She had a little swish to her hips when she walked. Not overly sexual and deliberate like some girls, but more like her movements were part of a dance that only she could hear the music to. Tank was already next to her and Lily bumped into him in her hurry to get out the door and not be left behind. Daryl felt a little spit building up in the corners of his mouth as he watched her and he reached for his handkerchief to wipe it off, coming up with nothing but an empty hand. He headed back to the garage and the bike, wondering if he had dropped it somewhere in there.

Rowan meant to head straight home, but she stopped when she saw a few concerned looking women heading down the street. She didn't know their names, but she recognized them as part of Daryl's group. The pretty hispanic girl was the one that had been helping out in the medical center. Rowan felt bad for her, having to work with Pete, who she considered one of the most digusting people in this town. Everyone liked to drink, but he drank too much. And once Rowan had even seen him grabbing his wife by the arm and hurting her. That's when she sent Tank after him and Pete got bit.

"Hi," Rosita said to the woman, "Rowan, right? You are the one that gave Abe that kitten." Rowan nodded. She was always nervous to meet new people, but women were not as scary as men. Rosita introduced herself and told her the other woman's name was Michonne. Rowan liked them both right away, especially the black woman with her long ropes of hair and the orange ring of courage and self conrol around her head like a halo. Rowan had a close friend back in the before that wore his hair like that. He had a real name once, but since he was so tall and thin everyone just called him tree. He was never really a full member of the community but more of a wanderer. Once he had invited Rowan to go on one of his road trips with him, but she had gone to visit her father for the summer instead. Rowan knew from the way she immediately associated this woman with a good friend that she was going to like her.

"You seem worried about something," Rowan mentioned. Rosita cocked her head to one side, looking at the woman in front of her. From the way she was dressed, Rosita had written her off as one of the people that lived here and had no clue about anything. But maybe there was more to her than met the eye. She was very observant, that was for certain.

"One of our friends is missing," Michonne told her. Like Rowan, Michonne trusted her instincts about people. And her gut reaction to this woman was that she trusted and liked her. Rowan looked immediately concerned.

"Do you have anything that smells like her?," Rowan asked, nodding towards the big black dog that was sitting on it's haunches next to her. "Tank can find her for you." The two women exchanged looks and a few words before Rosita went into the house to get one of Sasha's shoes. Once they were out of the gate, Rowan shoved it under her dog's nose and let him get a good sniff. She made Lily take a sniff too, even though she was worthless when it came to tracking. Michonne noticed Rowan had not taken a gun from the lockup, she only took a knife that she had hooked onto the waistband of the long skirt she was wearing.

Rosita watched as the big black dog sniffed around at the ground, came back to sniff the shoe again and then went back to sniffing at the ground. He led them over to the guard tower, which seemed promising, since she knew Sasha had been in there. Then he started back away from the door and deeper into the woods. Rosita was impressed. She had not expected much from the dog, and even less from the woman. She walked quietly through the woods in the soft pair of moccasins she was wearing. And the fact that she was not dressed appropriately for tracking someone through the woods did not seem to be hindering her. In fact, the more she watched her, the more the woman was reminding Rosita of some kind of modern day Pocohontas.

The dogs started barking, and Rowan grabbed Tank to hold him back, standing in between him and the angry looking woman that was holding a very large gun. The woman was standing near a very large hole in the ground that she was filling with the dead bodies of walkers. Rosita and Michonne rushed forward to prevent any sort of altercation from happening.

"What do you want?," Sasha asked them. Rowan stayed back, observing the woman. Like Daryl earlier, she was acting angry when she was really just hurting inside. That seemed to be common behavior for these people. Her aura was dark grey and hanging close to her head. It wasn't like the flash she had by the van when she knew something bad was going to happen on the run. This woman wanted to die. When Rowan's mother died, she had felt like that. This woman must have lost someone close to her. Rowan noticed the oversized men's jacket she was wearing desipte the heat and how badly she was sweating. She had lost a lover or a husband.

"We were worried about you," Michonne told her, "you have been gone too long."

"You should come back with us and get something to eat," Rosita suggested. Sasha argued back and forth with them for a few minutes. Then she saw that strange woman with the dogs step forward.

"I'm sorry," Rowan told the woman.

"Sorry for what?," Sasha asked. The venom in her tone almost made Rowan want to turn and run. But this time she held her ground.

"That you lost the man who that shirt belonged to," Rowan told her. She saw it then, a glimmer of the deep pain under the anger.

"What the hell do you know about it," Sasha yelled at her, the volume of her voice rising. Tank edged in closer to Rowan, growling a warning at the woman. She could yell, but if she moved to touch Rowan, he would rip her apart.

"I know enough," Rowan said, "I know you have people here that care about you. And that's more than I had when I came here. Everyone I ever knew is gone." Michonne caught that last word and it stood out in her mind. Rowan did not say dead. She said gone. And for some reason Michonne knew that it was not a slip of the tounge or a polite way of saying dead.

As she watched Rowan hug Sasha as she finally let go and started to cry into Rowan's shoulder, Michonne thought hard about what she had just heard. Somewhere out there, this woman had someone that she thought might still be alive. And she was not looking for them with her skilled scent tracking dog. Michonne could only think of one reason to explain why someone would not search for a loved one if they had the means to do so. She must not want to find them.


	16. Chapter 16

Waiting for sunset felt like it took a hundred lifetimes. Rowan sat in a hammock chair by the firepit and sipped red wine from a mason jar. She watched the sky turn colors, blue to white, then yellow and then orange. When the trees became black silhouettes against the firey sky and the sun dipped half below the horizon, she knew it was time.

Heading for her trailer first, she gathered up the things she needed before she called her dogs over and shut them inside. Lily barked a few times, but Tank remained silent. As Rowan walked across to the teepee, she gave Enid a little nod. She knew the girl would not disturb her. Enid respected her private time and Rowan gave her the same courtesy in return, never pressing her to talk about what happened out there before Rowan found her like other adults did. Rowan understood all too well what some of them did not yet understand. Bad things happened out there in the beyond. Sometimes it was better just to make yourself forget about them.

Rowan lit a little fire inside the teepee so she wouldn't get too cold. Then she laid a blanket out on the floor and set the items she had taken from her trailer on top of it. Rolling her shoulders and swinging her hair, she stretched out her arms and legs, trying to get as relaxed as possilble. After unbraiding her pigtails, she started to undress. Her hair fell forward as she reached behind her back, unzipping the bralette top she had on and lettting it drop to the floor.

Since she had just lit her fire, the air inside the teepee was still chilly and she felt her nipples tingle as they tightened up into hard little points. Her long hair tickled as it brushed against them. Next was her belt, which she dropped on top of the shirt before she unhooked her wrap skirt and let it puddle up on the floor around her bare feet. Her shoes had already been discarded by the door when she came inside. Left now in only her favorite small pair of black underpants that always made her feel just a little sexier then normal, she slipped those down her thighs and stepped out of them.

Clothed only in her long hair and jewelery, Rowan stepped onto the blanket she had laid out and sunk down to sit cross legged facing the fire. She took the handkerchief she had taken from Daryl's pocket earlier. Holding it to her face, she smelled it first. Then she ran it through her fingers, closing her eyes and feeling the texture of the fabric. The hanky was a very personal item, and would serve her purposes even better since it wasn't clean. That way it had some of his sweat on it, and if she was lucky, some spit.

Opening her eyes, she laid the square of blue and white fabric out carefully in front of her, smoothing it out so it was flat and unwrinkled. Then she grabbed for the small leather pouch she kept her rune stones in. With one hand open, she dumped out the contents, being mindful not to let any of them drop down onto Daryl's handkerchief that she didn't want there. She chose the two stones she wanted. Perth, the symbol of female sexuality and new beginnings and Wunjo, the symbol of joy and ecstasy. Rowan warmed each stone up in her hands before setting it on top of the cloth, then she put the rest of the stones back in the bag and set it aside.

When she was happy with how the stones were placed, Rowan picked up a small glass bottle of scented oil. The one she chose to use was sandalwood. Uncapping the bottle she put a little oil on her fingertips and rubbed it behind her ears, between her breasts under her crystal necklace and behind each knee. The excess she rubbed off into her hair. She put a little more onto her fingertips and picked up a small red candle. Starting at the bottom and working up, which signified things beginning instead of ending, she rubbed the oil on over the wax. She touched the candle with a practiced hand, the way she would touch a lover.

Taking the candle in one hand, she ran her other hand up the inside of her thigh and between her legs. Sucking in her breath and closing her eyes, she dipped one finger far enough inside herself to coat the tip of it in her feminine essence. That she rubbed on the top of the candle, around the wick that would be used to light it. There were a few other choice places she would rather be putting her juices than on a little wax candle, and the thought of a few of them made a hot blush rise up into her cheeks.

Leaning forward, she was cautious not to disturb the hanky or the stones. Rowan stuck the candle into the fire to light it. Once it was lit, she sat it on top of the hanky, behind her rune stones. Instinctively, her hand went up to grasp the crystal around her neck. She rubbed it in her fingers, staring into the small dancing flame. Rowan reminded herself to keep control over her thoughts. Casting a spell to make herself more desirable to a potential partner was allowed. Casting a love spell to control that person's will was not.

Rubbing her crystal, Rowan's other hand was twinging into the long ropes of her hair. The little flame was flickering and dancing and in it she saw what she wanted to see. His mouth on hers again. Then on other parts of her. Every part of her. The rough feeling of his hand compared to how soft his touch was. And Daryl's face, in the flames she saw his face over and over again. She closed her eyes, leaving them closed and thinking about the taste of him.

Rowan didn't know how long her eyes had been closed. But she guessed a long time. The air felt different around her, colder like maybe the fire had gone out. She was standing now, the ground cold and hard under her feet, not the soft floor inside the teepee. She opened her eyes. What she saw gave her a little shock, and then she reminded herself that she was probably still back inside the teepee meditating. This had to be a vision, though she could not remember ever having one before that felt this raw and real.

She was in the middle of the street in front of Daryl's house, looking up at the window she knew was his even though he had never shown her which room he slept in. She could just feel him there. There were red rose petals on the ground in a circle around her bare feet. And she was still as naked as she had been back at her camp. Her long hair came down, covering her breasts. Tied around her ankle was the handkerchief she had taken from Daryl. The crystal was still clasped tightly in her fingers and she dropped it, letting it fall between her breasts in it's long silver chain. All her other jewelry was missing.

Daryl had fallen asleep quickly, lying in bed thinking about Rowan. He didn't worry about the argument they had overthink things, as was his usual way with women. Instead he just closed his eyes and saw her. Walking out of the lake, the water dripping from her naked limbs. His dreams were hazy, like he was underwater or surrounded by dense fog. But he could feel her there, anchoring him in place.

Like his body had been shot through with an electric shock, he lurched up out of bed gasping for breath. Daryl never left his room without being fully dressed, not even to use the bathroom. But he felt like there was something pulling him forward like a fish on the end of a hook. He had nothing on except an old torn pair of jeans that he had taken to sleeping in, not even socks.

Down the stairs he went. And straight out the front door, leaving it hanging open behind him. _I'm still asleep upstairs. This is a dream. It has to be a dream._ He paused at the bottom of the steps, looking out into the street. Rowan was there, her skin shining creamy white in the moonlight. She did not move, her arms at her sides and the little crystal around her neck twinkling as it caught the light. Even with her hair hanging down to cover some of her, he could see that she was as naked as she had been in his dreams.

Before he knew he was moving, Daryl had her in his arms. His bare feet were crushing the petals on the ground around her. She used her hands to toss her hair behind her back, leaning close to press her naked breasts against his chest. Her skin felt cold, like she had been outside longer than she should have been. This struck Daryl as odd, people in dreams did not often get cold from standing outside.

"Is this a dream," he asked her, murmuring soflty into her hair. Holding her close, he tried to use the heat of his body to warm her skin.

"I'm not sure," she answered, tilting her head up to look into his face, "does it matter?" Daryl thought about it and shook his head, deciding quickly that he didn't want to know if this was a dream or not. She was in his arms. Her eyes were dark and full of desire and out here in the moonlight they shone deep and black. She ran her hands up his back and around his neck, twisting them into his hair before she put her mouth on his. He pulled back quickly before she really had a chance to start kissing him. Dream or not, it was cold outside and he wanted to warm her up under the thick blankets on his bed. If he started kissing her out here, he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop.

Her feet left the ground, and Rowan felt herself lifted up into Daryl's strong arms. One under her legs and the other around her back. She felt powerless to do anything besides hang on and let what felt like the tide carry her as it carried them both. The door shut behind them and then they were in Daryl's room. As he set her down gently on the bed, Rowan wondered if he even felt the stairs under his feet on the way up.

She was certain by now that this was really happening and not just part of some vision. But everything still had a hazy dreamlike quality to it. Daryl took his pants off and climbed into bed next to her and pulling the heavy blankets over them both. His body was like a furnace. As they kissed, she felt the heat building inside her, and soon enough they were both pushing and kicking the blankets off onto the floor.

Pulling her mouth away from his, she kissed the tip of his nose, his closed eyes, the little space between his eyebrows that wrinkled up when he was thinking too hard about something. Moving down, she sucked at his neck and the tender spot behind his ear, feeling his fingers start to dig into the tender flesh of her back. She moved up, arching her back and pressing her breasts into his face. The hair on his face was coarse and she could feel it rubbing against her skin. He buried his face into her, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of her soft curvy parts against him.

Her rolled her onto her back before he took her into his mouth, sucking at one of her soft pink nipples and feeling it go rigid in his mouth. She was moaning and gasping for breath, her hands tugging gently at his hair. He let her breast slide from his mouth with a pop, flicking his tounge over her sensitve skin once more before he took the other nipple between his lips. She tasted like heaven and there was a sweet woodsy fragrance clinging to her that he had not noticed before. It reminded him of going hunting in the woods after a fresh rain.

The throbbing between her legs was so intense that it was almost painful. Every place where Daryl's skin touched hers, she could feel the heat and the tingle. Rowan meant to let him take her at his pace, but she felt like everthing was moving in slow motion. Taking her hands from his hair, she grasped at his arms, pulling him up so she could get her mouth on his again.

Daryl could not remember ever kissing a girl this much and still wanting to kiss her more. Her tounge and the taste of her lips were like a drug to him. Before his tounge even touched her lips, her mouth was parting open to accept him. Her heels were digging into the mattress now, pushing her hips up to grind against him. He could feel the soft patch of hair above her opening rubbing against the base of his dick. If she had any opinion of the size of him, she had not made it known. He was throbbing between them, so he knew she must have felt how big he was by now. From the reaction he got, he knew how careful he needed to be. And the fact that he wasn't getting one was throwing him off.

Feeling Daryl's body tense with hesitation, Rowan ran her fingers lightly up and down his back. Then she slipped a hand between them. He was large, but she was more than ready for him. Arching her hips back, she tilted up and used her hand to guide him inside of her. The hesisitation she felt before quickly dissipated. He was eager now, moaning loudly as he pushed himself deep inside her.

Daryl had to bite down on his lip to keep from letting out a string of extremely vile obscenities. Now he knew he had to be dreaming. Sliding into her, he felt like he was sticking his dick into an electric socket. A tight wet electric socket. He had never felt a woman as hot inside as she was, it was like sinking into a hot tub filled with water so hot it almost burned at first.

The hand that she used to guide him inside of her came up and rested against the hard plane of his chest. She had it over his heart, feeling his heartbeat like she had done the night before when they were kissing. With her other hand she caught him under the chin, tilting his head so she could look into his eyes. Rowan would have liked to look at him the entire time he was inside her body, to see the expression on his face and the explosion of colors around his head while he took his pleasure with her. But she could tell right away that Daryl was uncomfortable with the direct eye contact. Giving him a soft smile, she took her hand back off his cheek and let him bury his face into her neck. While she knew Daryl had obviously had sex before, Rowan doubted he had really ever been intimate with someone. She didn't want to rush him, those things would come in time.

He started moving. Rowan lay still and let him find a rhythm before she started rising up to meet his thrusts. She could feel the increase in his heartbeat, in time with her own. Her cries were getting louder and with each hard push, she could feel him hitting that magical spot inside her. Daryl could hear how loud she was getting, and he quickly decided he didn't care who heard them. He was still about half certain he was dreaming anyway.

She was holding into him by the shoulders with the hand that wasn't pressed against his chest and he felt her nails dig in. Then she was arching, her hips rocking as her legs came up to wrap around his waist. He felt the bare skin of her legs and the press of the soft fabric of his whatever she had wrapped around her ankle touching his hips. The insides of her had been hot before, but now her slit was a flaming inferno contracting around him. While he could still feel her orgasming he spilled himself inside her, biting at her neck and the sloping curve of her shoulder.

Once he was finished, Daryl felt every muscle in his body start to go lax. He collapsed on top of her, then rolled off to keep from crushing her under his weight. Rowan threw one leg across his hips and took her hand off his heart, replacing it with her head. She let out a little sigh and closed her eyes. Daryl's arms wrapped around her, holding her close. Within a few minutes, she fell asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

Daryl was not sure at what point he had fallen back asleep, or if he had ever been awake in the first place. One moment he had been lying in bed, listening to the sound of Rowan's soft even breathing as he ran his hair through her long soft blanket of hair. The next he was in the woods. Fog was drifting through in wipsy clouds and there was nothing to indicate what time of the day it was. Rowan was there, but she wasn't Rowan. She was a giant black wolf. Her fur was coarse and black, and her dark green eyes shone out of it like beacons. Around her neck was the crystal she wore, the thin silver chain twinkling against her dark fur. She came towards him and he felt himself reaching out to touch her, her fur feeling soft as silk against the rough palm of his hand.

The loud caw of a bird rang out from the trees above them. Daryl looked up. He saw it there, a raven as black as Rowan's hair with one big eye in the middle of it's face. The branch underneath the bird turned red where it's feet were touching. The color spread like a virus turning all the trees in the forest, the grass, the leaves. Everything was the same shade of crimson. The color of fresh blood.

Daryl looked back down at Rowan. But now she was not alone. A pack of wolves surrounded her, the biggest male coming between them and herding her away with a few nips to her flanks. Daryl saw her look back, her eyes filled with fear. And then she was engulfed by the pack, hair blending with hair, making the one dark wolf indistinguishable from the rest.

The big male wolf came towards Daryl, a low growl issuing in his throat. Daryl reached for his bow, but found he had nothing to defend himself with. Sucking in his breath, he prepared himself for the worst. The wolf's back legs bent slightly, teeth bared in preparation for it's attack. But as it lunged at Daryl, something slammed into it in midair. There was a flurry of teeth and fur. Black fur. First Daryl thought Rowan had saved him, but it was not her. It was Tank, her faithful protector. A hand gripped his suddenly, but Daryl was not scared. He knew it was Rowan, no longer a wolf but in human form.

"Run, we have to run now," she told him. He could see the panic in her eyes. Before he could even nod they were flying through the forest, running faster than he had ever run before, the red trees passing by him in a blur. He could hear the thunder of the pack behind them. She was beside him for a moment, her long hair flying out behind her. Then suddenly she was gone. He was alone in the forest, the colors of the trees now normal again. He screamed for Rowan, but there was no one there to hear him. Not even the raven.


	17. Chapter 17

The sun was shining bright through the windows of his room when Daryl woke up. His body felt sore, but not in a bad way. Under the side of his face, his pillow was much softer and better smelling than he remembered it being when eh had gone to sleep the night before. He opened his eyes and felt up with his hand, finding out that what was covering his pillow was Rowan's long dark hair. Daryl sat up a little, careful not to disturb her.

Lifting the covers, he peeked underneath. They were both naked. And this did not have the strange fuzzy feeling, like the activities the night before had to them. But he was still suspicious that this might be just another part of the strange dreams he had. Reaching his hand over, he gave her a sharp quick pinch on the back of the arm. Rowan let out a little squeak. Then she rubbed at her face, trying to wake up.

"If you think you're dreaming," she mumbled in complaint, "you're supposed to pinch yourself, not the other person." She grabbed her hair, pulling it out from under Daryl and twisting it into a long rope that she tossed behind her so she could roll over. Convinced now that this was all actually happening, Daryl laid back down on his pillow and let her snuggle in and rest her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"What happened last night?," he asked. Usually he only woke up surprised to find a woman in his bed after a night of heavy drinking. And he had not been drinking. Her skin was so soft and warm where it was touching him. She snuggled in closer, tossing one leg over his thigh. He could feel the heat and moisture coming from between her legs now, pressing against the outside of his hip. Rowan shifted around to try and get comfortable, but she could feel something wrapped around her ankle that was tickling her. She reached down to untie it, coming up with the handkerchief she had stolen from Daryl's pocket the day before.

"I'm not sure what happened," she said, "but I think this belongs to you." She thought she better give the hanky back. Before she started any more trouble with it. Plus, she had a feeling she wouldn't need a love spell the next time she wanted to get Daryl into bed with her. Daryl took the cloth, turning it this way and that to see if there was anything strange about it. He got the funny feeling that Rowan knew exactly what happened the night before, and in some strange way, his nasty sweat rag seemed to be involved.

"You going to tell me what happened?," he asked her, tossing his hanky on the little table next to the bed. She giggled and started trying to kiss him in an obvious attempt to avoid his question. Her hand snaked down, knuckles brushing over his dick making it harder than it already was. Daryl caught her by the wrist. She was a sneaky one. He was determined not to let her distract him from his question.

"Tell me," he said again, keeping his tone soft so she wouldn't be afraid to speak up. Rowan sucked in her breath and let it out in a pouty little huff.

"Well...," she started, trying to think up a way to explain things to him that he could understand, "I might have taken your hanky and used it to put a love spell on you." Now she could feel Daryl's chest moving. He was starting to laugh.

"You took my nasty ass hanky?," he asked, "you know I blow my nose in that thing?" Rowan started laughing along with him, rolling off his chest and lying back on the pillow with her head next to his. He was very handsome. But when he smiled, he was beautiful. "What did ya do with my dirty snot rag?," he asked her.

"I laid it out and lit a candle on it," she admitted. Even she was not sure what had happened after that. Rowan had used that spell before and nothing like that had ever happened to her. She liked gentle men. But men like that were often to scared to approach her. And that spell usually just helped to get the man over the hump of acting shy and being too nervous. She had only meant to send out the vibe that she was interested. Then something else had taken over.

"Did you really walk all the way over here naked?," Daryl asked her. He was still smiling at her. She nodded.

"I don't remember but I think I must have," she said. She was quiet a moment and then she added. "You know when wolves are in heat, their mates can smell them from over three miles away." Daryl smiled at the comparison. He had never heard a woman compare him to a dog in heat. Well at least not in a favorable way. He rather liked the sound of it, and thinking of himself as Rowan's mate was more appealing than he would have thought. Mate sounded better than boyfriend or any other the other stupid terms that girls used, that was certain.

In the back of his mind, part of Daryl's dream drifted back to him at the mention of wolves. Red trees against the blue sky. But he wrote it off quickly as nothing more than a coincidence. There was no way Rowan could know he dreamt of her as a wolf.

"You in heat right now?," he asked her, grabbing at her sides and making her squeal in laughter. "Let me get a sniff," he said. Ducking his head under the blankets, he bit at her thighs as he pried them apart with his hands. He had only meant to tease her, but when he got close he found there was nothing funny about the way she smelled. The clean woodsy smell was there, he rembered that from the night before. But now it was mingled in with her feminine scent. He could smell himself on her too, and it made his dick twitch and go throbbing hard instantly.

Lifting one arm, Daryl flung the blankets off. Then he pinned her thighs down to the mattress, spreading her legs. He heard Rowan making some very half hearted protest about needing to wash up from the night before first, but her words turned to soft whimpers as soon as he put his mouth on her. He had put his mouth on women before, usually because he wanted them to put their mouths on him. It wasn't something he normally got much pleasure out of doing. But this was something else. The smell of her was driving him crazy, and when he felt her come on his face, it only got more intense.

Moving up her body, he grabbed her legs under the knees and lifted them up and apart. Her whole body was limp and she was making soft little noises that increased in volume and pitch when he shoved inside her.

"You okay," he asked, breathing hard. He had pushed into her hard and fast before he could stop himself and she had made a little gasping noise that scared him. Rowan nodded her head, biting at her lip before she spoke.

"I'm okay, don't stop," she told him. Really she was a little sore from the night before and more sensitive than usual since she was still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm. But what he was doing still felt good. Better than good, it felt like no matter how deep he pushed in, she still wanted more of him. Unlike her hard bucking movement from the night before, this time Rowan wrapped herself around him and let him rock her body with his movements. She held him and watched this time as the red cloud around his head grew and blended with her purple one. Where their auras mixed they made a vibrant shade that was maroon in some spots and hot pink in others.

There was so much red in him, the color of passion and fear. Most men she had been with had a color simliar to hers, violet with some yellow or orange mixed in. Daryl was different, and Rowan thought the colors around him were breathtaking. Her second orgasm took her by surprise, and she closed her eyes, letting the waves wash over her. She knew some women that used sexual techniques to increase and draw out their orgasms, but she had never been able to make it work for her. Her pleasures always came on hard and fast, leaving her feeling blissfully satisfied afterwards.

Soon after, Rowan could tell Daryl found his pleasures just as she had. He held her tight and then rolled off her, flopping back onto his pillow. The red around him slowly faded awaay until he was left with his usual blue. Rowan noticed this time it was only blue on the outsides, inside he was a shade of bright green. Green could sometimes signify jealously, but his looked more peaceful. The color of the grass after a rain. Rowan snuggled in close to him, feeling his arms wrap around her. She reminded herself she had better make some morning after tea when she got home. That was twice Daryl had spilled his seed inside her and she had no desire to become pregnant.

"I've got to go home and let my dogs out before they destroy my trailer," she said, leaning up to plant a soft kiss on his lips, "and I am starving." As if it was on cue, Daryl could hear her stomach start to rumble. He smiled and kissed her back. As much as he would like lazy around in bed all day with Rowan, the thought of food was making him hungry. "You want to walk home with me?," she asked, "I'll make you some breakfast." Daryl nodded. Giving him one more kiss, Rowan hopped up. Remembering she didn't have any clothes with her, she snatched up the bedsheet from the floor, intending to walk home wrapped in it. Daryl watched her with a smirk on his face.

"How about I find some clothes for you to borrow?," he suggested.


	18. Chapter 18

Rick finished mixing up the bowl of cereal he was making for Judith. Baby oatmeal mixed with goats milk wasn't the most appetizing smelling meal, but she sucked it down like it was ice cream with hot fudge and whipped cream on top. He turned away from the counter, expecting to find his daughter still sitting in the high chair where he had left her. The chair was empty, which made RIck go into instant panic mode. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest.

His first thought was that Judith had climbed out of the chair. Carl had been an expert climber at that age, always getting out of whatever baby device that Lori was trying to use to contain him. But he would have heard the thump if she fell on the floor. He turned and saw that a woman he didn't know was standing in the kitchen doorway, holding his daughter in her arms. She was medium height and a little on the thin side with long dark hair.

Fighting his first instinct, which sadly now was to react to every situation with violence. He took a breath instead and looked at the woman. She was clean, so that told him she was probably from this town. Someone he had not met yet. Her feet and legs were bare and she was clothed only in what looked like one of Daryl's shirts. Judith was grabbing at a crystal she had on a silver chain around her neck with her chubby little fingers. The way the woman was smiling at his daughter, Rick could tell she meant the little girl no harm. He also guessed from the way she was dressed that she had stayed the night at his house, probably with Daryl. That would make her the woman Carl got his goat from.

"I'm sorry," the woman said to him, "I guess I should have asked first." She smiled at the baby again. "She's just so cute." Rick found the woman's smile was contagious. Before he even meant to he found himself smiling back at her.

"It's alright," he said, despite the fact that moments before he had been feeling like it was anything but. The woman glaned at the bowl of baby cereal in his hand and then moved, sliding Judith carefully back into her high chair. She gave the baby at little stroke on her head, smoothing a wild lock of her hair that sprung back up as soon as she took her hand away.

"You are the one that gave Carl the goat?," Rick asked. The woman retreated back to the doorway before she nodded, letting him know that the goat had been from her. She didn't look scared of him, but Rick noticed she was still careful to stay out of reach. Just that made her look about 500 percent smarter than most of the people in this town. Rick wasn't sure how long she had living in Alexandria, but he would be willing to bet that she had not been behind these walls from the beginning. "Thank you," Rick told her.

"You don't have to thank me," she said. "The goats belong to the whole town, I just take care of them." Rick wasn't sure how accurate that was, but what she had done was nice no matter who the goats technically belonged to. Judith was doing well on the fresh milk, and having the goat kept Carl busy. He had been fawning over the animal, feeding, walking and brushing it. Yesterday, Rick had even seen a young girl about Carl's age out back helping him clean out and trim the animal's hooves. "Carl likes that goat?," she asked. It came out as more of a statement. Enid had already told her he was taking very good care of the animal. Rick smiled at her again.

"He does."

"Maybe I will bring him some chickens," she offered. Rowan loved eggs, and the occasional roast chicken dinner. But she was not fond of taking care of so many of the messy birds. The more than she could pawn off on other people, the better. Reg was working on Deanna about putting small coops in everyone's backyards. "If that's okay with you," Rowan added. She had a good sense of people, and she could tell right away that it was important to this man to feel like he was in control.

"That would be very nice," Rick told her. Rowan saw his face tense up, like he was thinking hard about something other than the cereal he was spooning into his daughter's mouth. "Can I ask you something?," he asked.

"You already did," she countered. Rick shook his head. Her joke and the half smile on her face did help to put him at ease.

"How long have you been living here?," he asked her.

"Six moons." She leaned against the doorframe, twirling at a piece of her hair. Rowan looked down, afraid he might start asking her about her time in the beyond. She didn't like to talk about that. And especially not to man that had not even bothered to ask her name first.

Assuming she meant about six months, Rick got to his real question. "How well do you know Jessie from across the street?" Rowan lifted her eyes up from the floor. That was not the line of questioning she had been expecting. Rick was holding his shoulders in a way that told her he was very tense, but he also looked concerned. Rowan knew where this conversation was headed and decided there was nothing to be gained by dancing around the issue.

"I know her husband smacks her and the kids around if that's what you're asking," Rowan told him. Her blunt response and the venom in her when she said the word husband took Rick by surprise. She was clearly disgusted by the situation. She didn't stop at that either.

"I saw him doing it once and I sent my dog after him. Deanna says I'm not allowed in the medical center anymore." Rick just listened to that last part with his mouth open. He had heard about the dogs from Carl. And everyone else that got the shit scared out of them the night of the party. Supposedly, they were the biggest dogs anyone had ever seen. He was surprised Jessie's husband was still alive.

Before Rick could ask her anything else, Daryl came down the steps in a hurry. He looked frantic, but relaxed when he saw the woman leaning against the kitchen doorframe. Rick knew he had been right about who's shirt she was wearing.

"I found you some pants I think will fit," Daryl told her, handing her a very stiff looking pair of denim jeans. Rowan was comfortable in what she had on, particularly since it was only for the walk home. But Daryl looked like he had gone through some trouble to find her something to wear besides just his shirt. Rowan thanked him, kissing him softly on the cheek before she pulled the pants on under his shirt. Rick watched the exchange, wondering what had become of the clothes the woman came in. He quickly decided he would rather not know. With a quick goodbye to baby Judith, Rowan and Daryl took off out the back door. Rick noticed they were holding hands and it made him grin. He had not pegged Daryl for a hand holder.

Once they were gone, Carol stepped out from behind the wall that led into the other part of the living room. Rick shook his head, wondering how long she had been standing there. She moved the curtain, watching Daryl and that woman walk between the houses.

"She's not one of us," Carol said. Rick wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to herself. And he wasn't sure he agreed with her.

"She's not one of them either," he told her. He had seen the careful way that woman had been watching him. She was no fool. He bet if he had tried to make a grab for her, he would have gotten nothing but air. Rick cocked his head. Someone was coming down the steps and he was listening to see who it was. The steps were too light to be Carl. So it had to be Michonne.

"Who are you talking about?," she asked, opening the fridge door and rooting around for something to stuff in her face. Rick realized that he had not bothered to ask the woman her name. Carol answered for him.

"Rowan," she said, "that woman that has been hanging around with Daryl."

"You don't like her?," Michonne asked, looking at Carol. She could tell from Carol's tone that she didn't like the woman. Jealousy might be playing a small part in that, though Michonne doubted the woman would be willing to admit it. Maybe not even to herself. Carol shook her head. No one was that nice. She figured the girl was up to something.

"Why?," Michonne asked, "because she's nice or because she's putting it to Daryl?" Rick was glad he was feeding Judith instead of himself, or he might have choked on a bite. He watched Carol for her reaction to MIchonne's words. And he was curious himself as to why she didn't like the woman. She seemed alright to him. And if she ended up with Daryl, that made her family by association.

"No one is that nice," Carol insisted, "she's up to something." Rick waved her off. Not everyone was up to something. That woman was just being nice because she had something going on with Daryl. Carol shrugged and straightened her sweater. Then she left using the backdoor to go do whatever it was that Carol did these days. Michonne twisted open a jar of applesauce and started spooning it into her mouth.

"You think she's up to something?," Rick asked her. Michonne shook her head.

"Not in the same way that Carol does," she said, "but I think she might be hiding here from whoever she was with before." Michonne leaned down and shared a bite of her sauce with Judith, who clapped her hands and reached for more.

"Why do you think that?," Rick asked.

"Just something she said," Michonne told him, "but I know how we can find out for sure." Rick raised his eyebrow at her. Then he got up with the empty cereal bowl and let Michonne take his seat in front of Judith.

"Hows that?"

"Deanna has tapes of everyone," Michonne reminded him, "those interviews she does. We can just go watch Rowan's tape."


	19. Chapter 19

Running her finger along the row of slim plastic cases, Michonne saw each one was marked with a name. She found her own name, and Rick's. Along with the rest of her group. Lots of names she didn't know yet. People that arrived at this town long before they did. But she didn't see Rowan's name on any of them. Starting over at the beginning of the shelf, she looked again, reading each one more carefully this time.

"Who's name are you looking for?," Deanna asked her. Michonne jumped a little at the sound of the other woman's voice. She had not realized the woman was standing so close to her. At first she felt a little like she had been caught doing something wrong. But she reminded herself that Deanna said the tapes were here for anyone to watch.

"Rowan's."

"Oh," Deanna said, her face taking on a look of concern. "I don't keep that one down here," she admitted, "its somewhat disturbing."

"We would like to see it," Rick said, his voice carrying over from the couch. Deanna glanced back and forth between him and Michonne. Deanna guessed their reason for wanting to watch the tape. She knew Rowan had taken an interest in a member of their group. They were probably just concerned for him. And people were always curious about Rowan.

This would not be the first time that Deanna had to turn someone away that had come trying to watch the woman's interview. If only Michonne had been here, Deanna would not have gotten the tape for her. But a request from Rick carried a little more weight. Deanna felt like she had been butting heads with the man over almost every issue she discussed with him. Letting him see Rowan's tape wouldn't hurt anyone. At this point, Deanna was willing to try anything to get him on board with her and the kind of community she was trying to build.

"I'll get it for you," she said. Rick had been expecting her to make some kind of objection. He glanced at Michonne, who shrugged and came to sit on the couch with him and Judith. Deanna disappeared upstairs and returned with the case. She pulled the slim silver disc out and put in into the DVD player. Then she turned on the tv and left. If they wanted to watch Rowan's tape, they could. But there was nothing on earth that was going to make her watch it again. Some of the things Rowan told her gave her nightmares to this day. That and Rowan had a way of speaking that made you feel the things she was feeling. And Deanna never wanted to feel that way again.

The TV came on, a few flickers danced across the screen. And then there was the chair, the same one they had all sat in when Deanna talked to them. But Rowan wasn't sitting in it, she was crouched in it like a cat. Feet in the chair with her knees up, her hands on the chair between them. Her eyes were darting from side to side and she looked feral, like she might slash out and attack anyone that got too close. Her hair was a wild mess of black tangles with bits of leaves and grass stuck in it. Rowan was thin even now, but in the video she was nothing but skin and bones. Her collarbones stuck out and her fingers looked like claws. On either side of her were her dogs, also looking like they had not had a decent meal in months.

"Your friend is right outside," Deanna's voice said, drifting in from off camera, "I assure you, no one is going to hurt either of you." Rowan was suddenly back, pressing into the cushions of the chair like she saw something that frightened her. Aaron entered the frame, holding out a glass of water to her.

"Its just water," he assured her, "its alright." She reached out with one long thin arm, taking the water from his hand and gulping it down, some of it running down the sides of her mouth and dripping down her chin. She handed the glass back and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving a few clean streaks across her filthy face. "You want another glass?," he asked her. Her eyes darted around suspiciously and then she nodded her head.

"Can my dogs have a drink," she asked.

"Of course," Deanna's voice said. Aaron left the frame and then returned with another glass of water and a large bowl of it for the dogs. The sounds of their eager slurping could be heard as Deanna talked a little more, giving roughly the same speech she had given to all of them. Her tone with this woman was much more gentle than Rick remembered her being with him.

"Can you tell me a little about your life before the outbreak?," Deanna asked the woman, clearly trying to warm her up and help her relax. Rowan gulped down the rest of the water Aaron had given her, drinking it a little slower this time.

"Someone got a TV," she said, "we watched until the TV stopped showing what was happening. But we never saw one of the dead ones. He said this was the end. People had finally killed themselves with all the poisons they put into their bodies. They were all going to die and the gentle were going to inherit the earth."

"Who said that?," Deanna asked.

"The cat man." Rowan sunk down into her chair, wrapping her scrawny arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. "He was wrong. The dead came for us too. When he tried to help them, they ripped him apart and his cats licked up the blood."

"How did you get out?," Deanna asked.

"My dad came for me," Rowan said. "As soon as he saw the first dead rise, he left the reservation and came for us. But he was too late to save my mother."

"He saved you," Deanna said. Rowan nodded but she didn't look too sure. "Where is your father now?," Deanna asked.

"I don't know, I ran away from them," she said. Them, Rick thought, not him. She was with another group before she came here, just like Michonne thought.

"Ran away from who?," Deanna asked. Rowan's eyes glazed over. The things that she was telling, she wasn't just talking about them, she was reliving. Her eyes darted around the room and she sunk back into the cushioned back of the chair like she wanted it to swallow her alive.

"Bad people, my father said we needed them. To protect us. This is the land of his people. Men took it from them. And now was their time to take it back." The last few words sounded like they were being spoken in someone else's voice, and it gave Michonne a chill right up her back. She knew now she had been right. Rowan ran away from the group she was with. Suddenly the volume of her voice increased dramatically and she was screaming so loud that people outside the house would have heard her.

"WE WILL SLAUGHTER THEM THE SAME WAY THEY SLAUGHTERED US!" Even Rick jumped when she screamed that out. He could only imagine what that had been like for Deanna, being right there instead of watching it on tv. Rowan's face had twisted up into a mask of hate. "They killed every group we found. Slaughtered them all and chopped them to pieces. Unless it was someone my father thought had the blood of his people in them. Then he would take them in as part of the group." Rowan's hands were shaking as she spoke and her big black dog shoved his head into the chair, nudging her with his nose. Her voice was flat now, void of emotion, like she was in some kind of trance.

"They killed everyone. Even little children. Once I found a baby. Someone already killed it's mother. I picked it up and held it." She went from talking about what happened to being there again. Her eyes filled with tears and she clutched her arms to her chest. "But its only a baby. I can teach it our ways. I will make sure it doesn't make noise. Please, please, no." Then she broke down. It was a horrible thing to watch, she cried and sobbed into her hands.

Aaron appeared in the frame again, sitting down in the chair with her and putting his arm around her shoulders. She clutched at him, sobbing into his chest. "We don't hurt babies here," he promised her. He had been able to tell by how jumpy she was that something bad had happened to her, but he had no idea the kind of things that were going to start spilling out of this poor woman.

"Is that when you ran away?," Deanna asked her once her crying seemed to be back under control. Rowan shook her head, looking very ashamed. She clearly wished she had run away when she found that baby. Maybe she could have saved it.

"My father said I had to get married," she explained, "to a man that he picked out. He said it was my job. We had to repopulate the earth with children of pure blood. That man was a bad man. He hurt me." She sniffed, wiping at her nose. "That's when I ran away."

"What happened after that?," Deanna asked. She was eager to get this interview over with. By now she knew enough to know that this woman was not a threat to the community. And what she had already heard was terrible enough, she wasn't sure she wanted to know more.

"I was alone. I walked a long time, all day every day. I needed to get far away so they would never find me. I hid from other people. Until I found Enid, she was alone like me. We hid together until Aaron found us."

"They were hiding well too," Aaron explained with a smile, "I only found them because one of the dogs barked." Then he had seen the two girls, covered in leaves and mud, peeking out at him from behind a bush. He had gotten out a piece of jerky for the dog and the big light brown one had practically mauled him trying to get it. The girls had tried to run away, but Rowan had to come back since her hungry dog was refusing to leave the side of the person she thought might have more food.

The video stopped after that, the picture turning into white and black wiggly dots on the screen. Michonne wished she had taken Deanna's advice and not watched it. Hearing Rowan talk about that baby made the horrible trauma of losing her son feel fresh all over again. She noticed Rick was holding Judith protectively close, snuggled against his chest.

"The people at Noah's place were all hacked up like she said in that video," Rick mentioned, his mind still reeling a little from the sickening images. Michonne nodded, she would not have thought of that, but he was probably right. How many groups of people were running around killing people and hacking their arms and leg off. She would like to think there was only one. She rubbed little Judith's back, then before she knew what she was doing she had her hand in Rick's, giving it a little squeeze before she spoke.

"If they are still out there, lets hope they are far away from here."


	20. Chapter 20

Carl was lying Judith down in her playpen when he heard a knock on the backdoor. The noise startled him and he almost dropped her the last few inches. Thankfully, she did not wake up. People that needed to knock before they entered this house came to the front door. Only the people that lived here or next door used the back entrance. He walked silently through the kitchen and moved the curtains just an inch to see who it was.

Enid waved like she knew it was him even though she could only see his eyeball. Carl laughed a little at himself for acting like such a scare baby. Then he swung the door open. Enid came trudging inside with one armload of comic books and a small calico kitten in the other hand.

"Gonna read my comics here," she announced. In case she meant that statement as her way of asking permission, Carl shrugged and shut the door behind her.

"What's wrong with your place?," he asked her. She snorted like everything in the world was wrong with it.

"Your friend," she said, "he's been staying there. Him and Rowan are disgusting." Enid flopped down on the couch and set the kitten in her lap. "They act like walkers, all they do is eat each others faces off all day. It makes me want to blow chunks." Carl smiled at the mental image he got from her words.

Daryl had been gone a few days now. He had come back for all of about two seconds to get his clothes before taking off again. Carol had been following him around, giving him the business like she was his mom. The man had not seemed very interested in listening to her.

Other than that, Carl had only seen Daryl in the garage across the street working on his motorcycle. And he had not even realized it was him at first. The man had a funny look to him. First off, he looked like he had bathed recently, instead of sometime last month. And his hair was pulled back from his face in the kind of braids that stuck close to the head. Carl also noticed that one of Rowan's dogs, the tan one with the black nose, had taken to following Daryl around. She had even been lying around in the garage with him while he worked on his bike. He was a little jealous over that. Those dogs were pretty bad ass. He would like it if one of them followed him around.

"Maybe they'll get bored with each other," Carl suggested helpfully. He figured kissing someone could only be exciting for so long. Enid rolled her eyes at him. Then she snatched the comic she wanted from the stack and shoved the rest of them at Carl.

Sifting through the comics, Carl picked the one he wanted and set the rest on the coffee table in front of him. Enid was pretending like she was paying him no mind, but he had seen her take a quick glance to see what book he was taking. Carl opened the book, staring down at the first page. But he wasn't really in the mood to read. He would rather talk to Enid. But initiating a conversation with her was not the easiest thing to do. Enid came over here, he reminded himself. She could have just as easily gone to Ron's house of she wanted to hang out, or Aaron's house if she wanted to read without being disturbed. Shutting the comic, he tossed it on the table with the rest.

"Didn't like that one?," Enid asked. He noticed she did not look up from her book, but at least she was talking to him.

"Don't feel much like reading I guess," he admitted. Enid stared at her book a while longer, until she finished the page she was on. Then she flipped it closed and tossed it onto the table, keeping one hand on the kitten in her lap. It was awake now, and much more interested in exploring it's new surroundings than it was in being cuddled by Enid. Slipping out from under her grasp, it darted away and tried to climb the back of the couch. Enid snatched it back up, pulling it's little claws off the fabric of the couch with a ripping noise. She set it firmly back in her lap. Then she looked at Carl.

"What do you want to do then?," she asked. Her tone did not have as much attitude as it usually did, but her point was made clear. If he didn't want to read, he better have a suggestion on what they should do instead. Carl rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand, trying to think up an answer to her question.

"I dunno," he admitted. Enid snorted, the corners of her mouth turning up into the tiniest whisper of a smile.

"Got a deck of cards?," she asked him. Carl nodded. He had seen some people playing cards at the kitchen table a few nights ago. "Know how to play poker?" Carl looked down at his hands, feeling a little embarrassed.

"No," he told her, "I only know baby games like go fish." During the end of the world, he had not had much time to learn card games. He had been a little more worried about finding food and not getting eaten alive than he had been about learning to play cards. Enid sighed like he was the most hopeless boy in the world.

"Well get the cards then, I guess I will have to teach you," she said with a little huff, like it was some kind of big inconvience.

"Why?," Carl asked. He knew she wouldn't have offered to teach him if she didn't want to, but her attitude was confusing. He was used to everyone treating him like a child. Interacting with someone his own age felt foreign, like being in a boat with and oar but not knowing how to paddle.

"Because tonight, there is a big card game over at Aaron's house and you can't come with me if you don't know how to play." Enid kept her hands in her lap, if she raised them up, she knew they would be shaking. Besides Rowan, who pretty much did all the work when it came to their relationship, this was Enid's first attempt at making a friend since before the outbreak. She didn't think she was doing a very good job at it either. She had already insulted one of Carl's friends and then treated him like he was stupid. Now she was thinking maybe she ought to just leave now before she embarrassed herself more. "You probably don't want to go anyway," she said, backpedalling on her offer. Then she started gathering her things up. "Maybe I should go back home."

"Wait," Carl said. He put his hand over one of hers to stop her from grabbing up the comic books. He left it there for a little longer than he needed to before yanking it back. There was an awkward silence between them. Carl swallowed hard and cleared his throat before he spoke.

"I want to go," he said, his voice sounding more sure than he felt about what he was saying. His face felt hot, like if he pressed his hands to his cheeks they might feel cool in comparison.

"Okay," Enid said. She was only agreeing to teach him cards. But when the words came out of her, for some reason she felt like she was agreeing to a lot more than that. When Carl had touched her hand with his, it made her feel funny inside, a little tingle in the pit of her stomach. "You better get the cards then," she quickly added, looking down at the kitten she was trying to keep in her lap so she didn't have to meet his eyes.


	21. Chapter 21

****The amount of concern everyone had over Daryl's hair made me laugh. I guess I better have him take the braids out. Thanks for the reviews everyone and I hope you all continue to enjoy the story. ****

Carl stood back while Enid pounded on Aaron's front door. Daryl and Rowan were down in the yard behind them, horsing around with Rowan's dogs. Carl was grateful they had stopped by his house to pick him up. If he had to walk over and knock on the door by himself, he wasn't sure if he would have come. And he wanted to come. He had the most fun he had in a long time the last time he had hung out with this group of people. Unlike the kids his age in town, he felt comfortable with Rowan and Enid and the rest of their little group. Carl also had to admit, he felt kind of cool to be hanging out with Daryl.

"Welcome to the island of misfit toys," Eric called out as he flung the door open. Carl could hear some laughter coming from inside the house as well as from the yard behind him. He followed Enid inside, nearly getting trampled by Rowan's door dashing dogs. She yelled at them for rushing ahead, but sounded like she didn't really mean it. Then she came scampering up the steps to wrap her arms around Eric. The man used the opportunity to get a good sniff on her hair, which was his favorite smelling thing in the world besides the lavendar plants he had growing in the backyard. Tonight the front of it was braided, but the rest of it hung long and loose over her shoulders. She gave the man a lingering kiss on the cheek before she let go and headed straight into the kitchen to look for Olivia.

Eric smiled at Daryl, who made no move to touch him. Instead he gave the man a little nod and walked past him into the house. Lily, having already begged a treat from Aaron, came rushing back to maul Daryl. She jumped up, putting her big paws on his chest while she tried to lick his face.

"Git down Lily," Daryl told the dog, "before ya get me in trouble." Rowan didn't like the dogs jumping up on people. Particularly Lily, who was too stupid to know that it was only alright to do it to Daryl. If she jumped on Rowan like that, she would knock the woman right over onto the ground. And that had already happened once, right after Daryl had been wrestling with the dogs and letting them jump on him. Not only had Rowan cut her elbow open on a rock, she had also dumped over a whole gallon of herbal tea that she was carrying at the time and broken the large glass jar it was in. Daryl took Lily by her collar and pulled her over in front of the door. He signalled her to sit down. "No jump," he told the dog firmly in a voice that made her cower down with her ears back, "Bad Girl. No Jump."

Daryl stood back up, shaking his head at the dog. He was glad Lily liked him, but she could be a little much sometimes. Right now, she was acting all sorry about jumping on him, but she had about a three second rebound rate before she would be running off to do her next asshole dog activity. He got the feeling Rowan was a little relieved that the dog had taken to following him around all the time, though he doubted she would admit it. Those dogs were her babies.

"Wine or beer?," Eric asked him. Then he laughed like it was a silly question. "Beer?," he guessed. Daryl nodded and followed him into the kitchen. Before the turn, if someone had told him that his favorite people to hang out with would be two queers and a hippie, he would have laughed in their face. But he found he was much more comfortable with his new adopted family than he had been with the friends he had before the turn. They had mostly been Merle's friends anyway. He never really felt like he could be himself with them. Here he just felt accepted. Like he was fine the way he was.

In the kitchen, Olivia and Rowan were chopping up vegetables to go with what he guessed was dip that Aaron was mixing up on a bowl. Everyone else was snacking on the stuff that was already set out on the table. Daryl knew Rowan and Eric had made most of the food earlier in the day while he was putting a few finishing touches on his bike. He and Rowan had gone back to her place to wash up before dinner, which was code for have sex before dinner. From the way Aaron had been smiling at them, Daryl was pretty sure he knew exactly what they were leaving to go do.

Eric handed Daryl a beer and he twisted at the top a few times before he realized it was not a twist off top. Weaving through the kitchen, he took the bottle opener off the fridge and popped open his beer before taking a long swig. He looked over at Rowan, who caught his eye for just a moment. She gave him a smile before she turned her attention back to the carrots she was chopping up.

The two of them had just had just finished having sex before they walked over here, but he found his eyes were wandering over her body anyway. She had leather sandals on, with thin little gold straps that wrapped up around her ankles. Her legs were bare up to the thigh were the fringe on her dress was brushing against them. He knew she was wearing the dress because he liked it. It was red, with lace on the top and parts of the long sleeves. The dress was short with fringe hanging down so more or less of her legs showed depending on how she moved. It hung loose on her like most of her clothes, and the front of it laced up and tied. And she must have forgotten to tie it up after their excursions back at her trailer, because it was hanging part of the way open, revealing a generous amount of cleavage.

Rowan glanced over her shoulder again. She could feel Daryl's eyes on her, and when she looked, she saw he was looking at her with more than just a casual appreciation. He better knock that off, she thought with a giggle that she tried to hold in, or he is going to be walking around this party all night with his pants too tight.

"What's funny?," Olivia asked her. She saw Rowan's face turning almost as red as her dress under her freckles.

"Nothing," Rowan told her, unable to hold in her laughter anymore. Olivia was unable to help herself, and she started giggling along with her. Even before the turn, Olivia had never really had a lot of close female friends. Her experience was that girls only pretended to be her friend and then called her fat behind her back. Rowan was her first real woman friend. When she told Olivia that she was beautiful the way she was, Olivia knew she really meant it. And she guessed that part of it was because Rowan had not grown up with the same influences that most of them had. Television and magazines where the only lesson taught was that you could never be too rich or too skinny. She had been taught to judge people on the content of their character, that looks came secondary to a person's actions. Olivia always found her opinions of people to be refreshing and often more than a little funny. Since Eugene had headed into the other room with everyone that wasn't helping with the rest of the food, Olivia leaned close to Rowan and whispered a question to her about the man she was seeing.

"What do you think about Eugene?," Olivia asked. Rowan looked like she was really thinking about her answer. It was her way to say what she really thought and not just blurt out what she thought you wanted to hear.

"I think he is very kind. And smart," she whispered back, "I think you were very lucky to find someone like that." Eric, who had been leaning on close to hear what the girls were saying, rested his chin on Rowan's shoulder.

"I think he needs a haircut," he added. Rowan cocked her head to look at him. She had assumed that Eugene had cut his own hair and had not been able to reach the back. Or maybe that he had leaned to close when he was lighting a fire and burned off the front.

"Did he make it like that on purpose?," Rowan asked. That really set Eric off, making him laugh so hard that he had to grip the counter to keep from doubling over. Olivia could tell the woman was sincere in her question. And it made her start to laugh before she could stop herself. While her lack of knowledge about popular culture benefited her in some respects, it made her come off sounding like a bit of a ditz sometimes too. "Quit laughing," Rowan said, shoving at Eric playfully, "I thought he burned it off leaning over a fire." This explanation only served to make Eric laugh so hard that it brought Aaron and Lily in from the other room to see what was going on.

"Are you guys staying in here to goof around all night or are we playing cards?," Aaron asked. He didn't ask what they were laughing about, he knew Eric would tell him later. "We have enough snacks to feed a damn army," he added. From the few things that were chopped up on the cutting board, Aaron knew they were mostly fooling around and gossiping anyway. Rowan grabbed a bowl and scooped the rest of the chopped veegies into it before she headed into the dining room and took her place at the table.

Aaron got a giant jar of change out and dumped it out onto the table. Everyone started sorting it and dividing it up so they all started with the same amount. While they did this, Aaron explained the house rules for everyone that didn't know them. They sounded pretty standard to Daryl. The only rule he had not heard before was that at the end of two hours, whichever team had the least amount of money had to cook dinner for everyone else.

Rowan had explained to Daryl earlier that this game night was a sort of tradition. But now he was really starting to understand what she meant. They played cards the night before Aaron left to go out recruiting and whoever lost cooked the celebration dinner when he got back. Daryl was leaving this time too, it would be his first time to go out looking for new group members. This made him feel included, not just because he was now associated with Rowan, but as a real member of the group in his own right. This party was for him as much as it was for Aaron. He was nervous and a little sad to be leaving Rowan by herself, but he was also proud to be contributing something of worth to this community. As they played he thought about all this, and how grateful he was to be here. So much more than he ever would have thought he would be when he had first come through those gates.

The game ended with Olivia and Eugene and the winners. Carl and Enid lost. So Eric announced that for the celebration dinner, they were all having peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

"I know how to make pancakes," Carl offered with a smile. His mother's cooking was so bad that he had started cooking for himself as soon as he could reach the counter. He couldn't make anything fancy, but he could make box macaroni and pancakes from the just add water kind of mix like nobody's business. Enid was smiling at him, and not for the first time that night.

"I can make eggs," she added.

"Sounds good enough to me," Aaron announced. Anything besides spaghetti sounded good to him. He grabbed the jar and started sweeping all the change across the table into it, letting it clink and jingle as it fell. "Rowan, will you still read for me tonight?," he asked her. She nodded and got up from the table.

"I brought my stuff over earlier," she said. Daryl had assumed Aaron was talking about a book when he mentioned reading. But now his curiosity was piqued. He had only been staying with Rowan a few days, but it was long enough to know she was into some unusual shit. There was a lot of weird stuff lying around in her trailer that he made sure to steer clear of. Some of it looked like herbs for medicinal teas, but there was some rocks and crystals and stuff there too. She had a little bag of stones with symbols painted on them that she liked to dump out and stare at sometimes. Like her table manners, some of things she did were strange.

He didn't really mind any of it, in fact he thought of Rowan like a puzzle that he wanted to piece together. She kept things interesting. His favorite thing she did, he thought he was going to hate at first, was that she was determined to teach him how to meditate. Daryl was not really sure if he was learning anything, but since her lessons involved both of them being most of the way undressed with her massaging different parts of his body, he was certainly not going to object. When he pictured what he thought meditating was, Daryl thought about a bunch of weird old religious dudes chanting together in colored robes. The way Rowan did it, it was more like getting a massage that came with a happy ending.

Daryl wandered into the living room and sat down in a big overstuffed chair near where the dogs had set up camp. Lily sat up and laid her head in his lap, looking for some attention. Tank was cuddled down with one of Enid's kittens snuggling him. Rowan was on the floor with her little shoulder bag in her lap. She was taking things out of it, setting them up on the coffee table. Daryl could tell some people knew what was going on, while others were as curious as he was. She layed out a soft looking black cloth and lit a few small white candles. Then she got out a large deck of cards that was wrapped up inside another black cloth.

Aaron took his place on the floor across the table from her. From the way he acted, Daryl could tell this was not the first time they had done whatever they were about to do. Rowan set the cards on the cloth and she and Aaron reached for each other's hands. They sat that way for a few moments with their eyes shut.

"Okay, I'm ready," Aaron said. They both opened their eyes and dropped hands. Then Rowan handed him the deck of cards. He took them, the look on his face very serious. Then he closed his eyes and shuffled through the deck, moving some cards to the top and others to the middle or bottom. When he was finished, he handed them back to Rowan. She set the deck down near her and then took the top card off, flipping it over in the middle of the cloth. The picture on it was of a man on a horse, holding a long stick.

"Oh no," she said, "I think I might have thrown the reading."

"What's wrong?," Eric asked, leaning forward with a look of concern. Rowan shook her head at him.

"It's nothing bad, I just tried to read for myself a few times today and all I kept getting was the knight of wands. This card. I had a dream about it last night too," she explained. Then she laughed a little at herself, maybe oh no was not the best thing to say when she was reading someone's fortune. She would have to keep that in mind for the future.

"You should reshuffle," she told Aaron. He nodded and she handed him the deck of cards back. Shoving the Knight card back into the middle of the deck first, he closed his eyes and repeated the same thing he had done before, shifting the cards around until they felt right. Rowan took the deck back and flipped the first card over. This time it was a picture of a tower that looked like it was on fire and being struck by every natural disaster there was at the same time. Rowan sucked in her breath. The tower was never a good card to get. She turned the next card over and laid it crossways on top of that card. And there he was again. Her little friend on his horse with the long stick in his hand.

"Now I am getting a little creeped out," Aaron announced. "Who is this guy?"

"The knight of wands," Rowan explained, "the card usually means sucess in a mission and a good time to travel. Here he crosses the tower, which is the symbol for disaster." She kept getting the feeling that this time the card signified a person. But she couldn't figure out who it was. It was really driving her crazy. She felt like hurling the stupid cards across the room.

"Daryl is going on the run too," Aaron suggested, "have him shuffle and see what happens." Before Daryl could object, Aaron was getting up and everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to take Aaron's spot across the table from Rowan. He reminded himself that he didn't really believe in any of this mumbo jumbo. Then he crossed the room and sat down in the spot that Aaron had vacated. Rowan had not given Aaron instructions, but she did let Daryl know what to do. He was grateful that she did, because he had no idea what the fuck was going on.

"Take my hands. Now clear your mind, and when I hand you the cards, only think about your run and what you hope will happen during it," she explained in a soft voice. Daryl nodded and put his hands across the table into hers. What she told him to do didn't sound so bad. He figured he could do that. And everyone seemed to be taking this all very seriously. He could tell that no one was going to laugh at him for doing this.

Taking Rowan's slim hands in his, he smiled at her before he closed his eyes. Then he tried to do what she said, clear his mind. It was easier said than done, and he found himself thinking about the feel of her hands in his instead. The soft feeling of her skin and how much slimmer her fingers were than his.

"Okay," he said, "I'm ready." Ready to get this dog and pony show over with, he thought. She handed him the deck. He took it and then tried to do what he had seen Aaron do. He actually made an attempt to think about the run they were about to go on, hoping that they would find some alright people and maybe some supplies. And that they would make it back safe. He wanted to make it back safe to Rowan. Daryl shuffled the cards through his hands while he thought about all this, moving the ones that felt good to him to the top. When he felt he had held them for as long as Aaron did, he handed them back. Rowan touched his hand when she took them, giving him a reassuring smile.

She flipped the top card over, lying it in the middle of the black cloth. This one had a picture of a man that was hanging upside down with his feet tied to a tree. Daryl wasn't sure if he liked the look of that motherfucker, and he had to remind himself again that he didn't believe in any of this. He noticed that Rowan also had a look of worry on her face. She said nothing about the hanged man, instead she grabbed the next card and flipped it.

"No fucking way," Aaron blurted out. He looked shocked at his own language and quickly apologized for the foul word he used.

"Is this some kind of trick?," Daryl asked. Because it felt like a trick. There it was again. The little horse man with the long stick staring up at him. Rowan was giving him a look that said she did not play parlor tricks. And truth be told, she looked a little freaked out.

"No," she said, "its not a trick."

"The chances of pulling that card three times at random are less than one in a thousand," Eugene informed everyone.

"What does it mean?," Eric asked. Rowan picked up the card and ran her hands over it. She hated giving specific advice when it came to telling fortunes. Sometimes telling things could alter how they happened. For example, it could steer a person away from a difficult task and make them miss out on the important lesson they were meant to learn from it. She liked to do a reading and just get a general feeling for how something was going to go. Maybe figure out a few things to be on the lookout for. But she didn't like to lie either.

"I think it means something bad is going to happen on this run," she said, "but the knight of wands is going to stop it from happening."

"Who's the knight of wands?," Daryl asked her before he could stop himself. He felt stupid until he saw everyone else was also leaning in for an answer, wanting to know the same thing. She closed her eyes, running her hand over the card a few more times.

"Not someone I know," she said, "but I think he might have some connection to you."


	22. Chapter 22

Once he swung his leg over and found his seating, Daryl fired up his bike. He glanced down the street behind him, hoping to get one more look at Rowan, but she was no where to be found. The two of them had slept the night in the guest room at Aaron's house after the party. And early that morning, Rowan had woken him up to tell him goodbye and wish him goodluck on his trip. Since her idea of saying farewell had not been exactly PG, Daryl figured maybe it was best that she had done it in private and not out here by the front gate.

Trying to keep his mind on the task at hand was harder than one would imagine. Daryl's mind kept drifting back to a few hours before, when he had woken up from another one of the strange dreams he kept having. Rowan was straddling him with her hands resting on his chest. He was already inside her and she was rocking her hips in slow circles, clothed in nothing exccept his leather jacket. When she saw him wake up, her face lit up with a smile. She leaned down, tracing the outline of his mouth with the tip of one slender finger before she kissed him.

The smell of Rowan was all over him, and it clung to the lining on the inside of his jacket. He guessed that had been her intention when she put the jacket on, though at the time his only thought had been how sexy she looked in it. The front of it fell open as she leaned forward, revealing her upturned breasts that were covered with freckles on the tops and creamy white on the soft undersides. For the first time Daryl was regretting taking the recruiting job that Aaron had offered to him. He had not even left yet and already he was wishing he was back at Rowan's place, sitting in one of her hammock chairs having a smoke and watching her shell peas or brush her dogs.

Spencer had his hand on the gate, ready to open it. But he stopped in mid motion, staring off down the street with an amused look on his face. Before Daryl even turned around he heard the barking. Then Lily was on him, jumping up and nearly taking him and his bike down in one foul swoop. He pushed his bangs out of his face, wishing that he had let Rowan braid it for him again. The hairstyle made him feel ridiculous, but she had been right about how practical it was not to have his hair falling in his face every five seconds. Especially while he was working on his bike.

"Wait," Rowan was hollering from down the street as she ran in Daryl's direction. She was still wearing the red dress she had put on for the party the night before, and the fringe was flying out behind her and bouncing against her thighs. When she reached his side she was breathless and panting harder than her dogs.

"Thought you didn't wanna see me leave?," he asked, swinging his leg back off the bike and pulling her hard against his chest. She hugged him back with both arms, her face buried into the curve of his neck. Rowan held onto Daryl until she caught her breath, aware that the two of them now had a small audience.

"I had something I wanted to give you," she said as quietly as she could, "for good luck." She pulled back, opening her closed fist to display a long braided length of her hair. There was a charm hanging off the braid that Daryl had seen on a necklace that she wore. It was a gold and brown striped cylindrical rock that was wrapped in silver to make it so it could be worn on a chain.

"My tiger's eye," she explained, "for protection." Daryl nodded. He wasn't sure what to say, but he found Rowan's simple gesture touching. He knew the rock was special to her, she wore it almost as often as the clear one on the silver chain that he knew had belonged to her mother. Unzipping his jacket, Daryl stuffed the small bundle into one of the inside pockets where he could keep it safe.

"Thanks," he told her, feeling like the words sounded meaningless after she had given him something to hold onto that was so meaningful to her. He wished he had thought of something to give her before he left. She really ought to consider giving him some advance warning when there was going to be a gift exchange, he thought as he looked down at her. He patted at his pockets, racking his brain for something of his that he could give her to hold onto while he was gone. The problem was that he didn't have many personal possessions and the few items he had were things he needed.

When he patted at his back pocket, he smiled big. He had the perfect thing to give her. Yanking his handkerchief out of his pocket Daryl wadded it up and shoved it into her hand, closing her hand around it. From the way she clutched the square of fabric and pressed her closed hand immediately against her chest, he knew he had done the right thing. There was no doubt in his mind that Rowan was the only girl he had ever met that could be made happy by getting a dirty snot rag as a present.

No longer concerned with the small crowd of people standing around, Rowan tilted her head up and kissed Daryl full on the mouth. She was moved by his gesture, it made her feel a bit like a swooning lady in some renaissance story. Though in that case, technically she should have been the one giving him the hanky as a favor. She felt a moment of hesistation, but then Daryl's hands were on her hips and he was kissing her back.

Aaron watched the couple for a minute from inside the car he was driving, or more accurately waiting to drive. They were so cute it was almost disgusting. And Rowan's dogs were both sitting on their haunches looking up at the kissing couple like they were watching tv. When it became obvious that they were not going to stop kissing until someone interrupted them, Aaron leaned on the horn. Rowan jumped back at the sudden noise. One she recovered from the shock of the sudden loud honk, Aaron saw she was moving like she was going to go back to kissing Daryl again so he honked the horn some more.

"Kiss him when we get back," he yelled out the window, "I'm wasting gas here Rowan!" She rolled her eyes at him and laughed. Then she threw her hands in the air like she was giving up and backed away from Daryl and his bike. When Rowan was well out of the way, she called her dogs and held tight to Lily's collar to keep her from trying to run after Daryl when he pulled past the gate on his bike. Rowan thought that maybe when he was able to make her mind him better, Daryl could take Lily with him when he went on his runs. It would ease some of her worry for the man if he had one of her big dogs with him. But right now Lily still had to much puppy in her to be fully trusted. She didn't even like to mind Rowan half the time.

Spencer opened the gate wide enough to let Aaron's car through. He was pulling it closed behind them when he felt Rowan's hand on his arm. He stopped, leaving a few inches of space.

"Just let me watch until I can't see them anymore?," Rowan asked him. She told herself earlier that she wasn't going to watch Daryl leave. But now she couldn't stop herself from looking. Her slim hand closed around one of the bars of the gate, the other holding the crumpled up hanky. She was so intent on what she was watching, she did not see the hurt look on Spencer's face.

"Is that guy your boyfriend now?," Spencer asked her once she let go of the gate and allowed him to shut it. Rowan turned her attention to her friend. Then she saw it, the hurt and pain that was written all over him. She had sensed a few times that Spencer might have deeper feelings for her than he let on, but she had not imagined that seeing her with another man would hurt him this much. It made her feel terrible and thoughtless. Spencer was her friend, and he had just lost his brother. Rowan had never meant to cause him even more pain. There was not even a tinge of green jealousy around him, only the sad blue grey of depression.

"I'm so sorry," Rowan told him, not even bothering to attempt to answer his question. She reached out to touch his arm with her hand and then changed her mind and yanked her hand back. Maybe touching him now would make him feel worse, or give him hope that she might feel something for him that she didn't. That was how this all got started in the first place. She had never meant to lead him on, but she was naturally affectionate. Much like nudity, hugging and touching were not inherently sexual to her. But she had come to understand that these people only exchanged physical affections with people they were attracted to. In Rowan's opinion, it was a very sad and lonely way to live.

"It's alright," Spencer told her. He was hurt, but not angry. It wasn't Rowan's fault that he liked her and she liked someone else. And her very sincere apology drove that point home for him. He knew her well enough to know that she had not been kissing that man to hurt him. Rowan didn't play games like that.

"Are you mad at me?," Rowan asked him. She looked so worrried that he might be angry, it almost made him want to start laughing. Spencer sighed and tossed an arm around Rowan's shoulder, hugging her to the side of him.

"Naw," he told her. He was still upset, but he had never really been mad. And at the very least, he didn't want to lose his friendship with Rowan. She was the only person he really felt comfortable talking to about anything personal. Now she was smiling up at him, one of her slim arms wrapping around his waist.

"Good," she said, "cause I really want you to go fishing with me and Eric today." And Rowan was not just inviting him to be nice. She really did want Spencer to go. Eric always refused to bait her hooks for her.


	23. Chapter 23

****I am very excited to have so many new followers. I was going to put up an extra chapter once I hit number 100, but since I think that might happen while I am sleeping tonight, I decided to do it for number 99 instead. ThiefWicker was the lucky number 99 :), but I want to thank everyone who is giving my story a try and especially those that took the time to leave a review. As always read, enjoy and review. ****

Judith was in a playpen in the front yard. She was lying on her back babbling to herself a little, which Carl hoped meant she was probably going to fall asleep soon. Rowan's big black dog ran back towards them, thundering down the street like a freight train, and she wrestled the big sturdy stick out of his mouth before handing it to Carl. Carl waved the stick back and forth, trying to shake the slobber off of it. Lily thought he was throwing it and took off down the street in the wrong direction. Rowan shook her head, laughing at the silly dog, who was now sniffing around at the ground for a stick that was still in Carl's hand.

Carl laughed too. Lily was a funny dog. She had spent most of the day looking for Daryl, sniffing around at all the places she thought the man might be and then following Rowan around, barking and whining at her. After the fifth time Rowan tripped over the dog, she decided she might try and play catch with the dogs for a while to see if she could burn off some of Lily's energy. Carl had been outside with his sister, which made the game even better, since he could throw the stick about three times as far as Rowan could.

Besides his stick throwing abilities, Rowan wanted to get to know the boy a little better. He had come over for the fish fry they had the night before. And she had noticed he and Enid seemed to be getting close. She was happy the girl had finally made a new friend, and Rowan hoped if she was friendly with him too, it would encourage him to come around more often to see the girl.

Showing Tank the stick, Carl made sure the dog was ready and then hurled it as far and fast as he could down the street. Sometimes the dog would jump and catch the giant stick right in his mouth. This time he missed, but was quick to snatch up the sturdy chunk of branch before Lily could run over and grab at it. Carl noticed a few people had come out to sit on their porches and watch the game. The last throw, Tank caught the stick in his mouth and people clapped for him.

Tank ran back and Rowan started trying to grab the stick back from him. He liked to try and play tug of war with her, refusing to let go of the stick. The dog was so much bigger than the woman, he dragged her around like a rag doll.

"Drop it Tank," Rowan said. The big dog let go right away, sending her flying backwards into Carl and almost knocking them both onto the ground. "Stupid dog," Rowan mumbled through her laughter. She brushed herself off and turned to hand the stick to Carl when suddenly there was a loud noise filling the air from down the street. The sound of breaking glass and a loud crash could be heard.

Carl's dad and Pete came flinging out the window of Pete's house and over the railing of the porch, spilling into the front yard. That was where Lily had been sniffing around and the men landed next to her with no warning. She let out a series of loud frightened barks and then darted down the street towards Rowan with her tail between her legs.

At first, Rowan was not even sure what was going on. It took her longer than everyone else to realize that Rick and Pete were fighting. Then she remembered Rick asking her about Pete the week before. She guessed maybe Rick had gotten involved in the situation between Pete and Jessie and whatever talk they must have been having had gone bad in a hurry. Carl was running towards them, trying to yank his dad off the other man. But all that did was give Pete the chance to get a good hit in and flop Rick onto his back.

Pete was bigger than Rick, taller and heavier too. Jessie ran over, trying to stop him. He hit her hard, sending her flinging onto the ground and skidding across the sidewalk. Then he hit Rick again and again with his fists. Rowan's dogs were barking and other people were yelling, all the noise turing into one loud roar in her ears.

She suddenly became concious of the sturdy branch she was still holding in her hands from her game of catch with the dogs. Before she had made a decision of what to do, Rowan found herself heading towards the two men with the stick raised. Rowan had never struck another person before, and certainly never hit anyone with a hard stick. But Pete was a bad man. She had seen him hurting his wife. And he had said a lot of mean things about her dogs, like that Tank should be shot before he bit anyone else. Rowan didn't like him one bit. She had seen bruises on his children too. And as far as she was concerned, hurting a child was one of the most horrible sins a person could commit.

Now the man was hurting Carl's father, who had been very nice to Rowan. He let her hold and play with his baby. She liked him. And he was a close friend of Daryl's. Which made him more special to her. She did not like what was going on and liked even less that no one seemed willing to step in and stop it. Before she knew what she was doing, the wrestling men were in front of her and she was bringing the stick down hard, hitting Pete across the back with it. Rowan could hear a woman screaming and as she brought the stick down again, she realized it was her. On the third blow, the stick broke across Pete's back.

Pete arched back before he punched Rick once more. His fist slammed hard into the other man's face and blood splattered across the pavement next to his face. Then the tall man pulled himself onto his feet, catching Rowan by the wrist before she had the chance to dart away. She was still holding the broken off stump of the stick she had used to hit the man in her hand, staring at it in shock because of what she had just done. Pete twisted her wrist until she cried out in pain and dropped the small bit of wood from her hand. It landed on her smallest toe, making her yelp again before she yanked back, trying to pull her arm from Pete's grasp and run away.

Unlike the previous few moments, where everything seemed like it happened too fast, now everything felt to Rowan like it was slowing down. She could see Rick struggling to get back onto his feet behind Pete's back. Pete was yelling at her, grabbing her wrist so hard she thought he might break it. He was lifting his arm, intending to bring it down across her face. The smell of booze was strong, making her feel woozy, and she guessed it was his breath. Lily was barking like crazy. Deanna was screaming for Pete to stop. And in the middle of it all, Rowan could hear Tank's heavy tread as he rushed at the man that was hurting her. A man that the dog already had a strong distaste for after their last interaction.

Pete's hand came down, hard across Rowan's face, snapping her head to one side. She saw little white spots dancing in front of her eyes and the pain in her wrist was more than she could take as she yanked and struggled against his grip. Tank did not give a warning growl in his usual way. Rowan saw him as a blur, her eyes full of water from the force of the blow. He jumped, lunging at the man, and in that moment she truly saw him. A huge black angel, wings spread and his teeth bared, the white light glowing around him. This was not the first time Rowan had the thought that Tank was more than just a dog. She believed that a small piece of her mother's spirit had taken hold inside him. Through him the woman was always watching over her.

He knocked Pete to the ground, smashing him hard against the concrete. The man's fists were as useless as a small toddler's would be against a solid wall of brick. Tank's jaws closed down around the man's throat, choking the life from him. Blood started pouring out, gushing and puddling around Pete's head. Tank did not let go until the man went limp. Then he ran into Rowan's open arms. She knelt down, hugging the dog and letting her salty tears mix with the blood on his muzzle. Lily crowded in, licking at Rowan's hurt wrist and making soft little puppy noises.

When Rowan looked up, she saw the eyes of everyone were now on her. People were angry and frightened. The puddle under Pete's throat was getting bigger and bigger and the younger of his son's had run down from the porch. He was crying and Jessie was holding him tight in her arms, trying to keep him from looking at his father's dead and mangled body.

Rick was on his feet now. He stepped towards Rowan. She heard Tank growl low in his chest, but he made no move to attack the man. Rowan felt his hand on her shoulder.

"You alright?," he asked her. Rowan looked up at him, her eyes watery and one side of her face swelling rapidly. She nodded and hugged her dog tighter. Some people in the crowd were starting to yell things out about her and her dog. And Rick did not like the sound of what they were saying. One man yelled that her dog was a menace that ought to be destroyed. Then it seemed like everyone was yelling at the same time. She was a witch. She never should have been allowed to live there with them. Her dog needed to be killed before he went after one of their children.

A sickening gurgle came out of Pete's dead body. Then he was twitching and jerking, his eyes glassy and unfocused. The thing that used to be Pete got up onto it's feet, a sound coming from it that was a combination between a hiss and a gurgle. Blood was still dripping, darker and thicker looking now, from the gash marks Tank had made in his neck.

Instinctively, Rick reached for the gun under his shirt. The gun that no one was supposed to know that he had. He shot the Pete walker through the head, dropping him back into the puddle of blood he had risen out of. Rick kept the gun up, looking at the people crowded around, unsure of which ones had been yelling unsavory things about Rowan and her dog. Those people pissed him the fuck off with that crap. As far as Rick was concerned, Pete got exactly what he deserved.

"Enough," Deanna yelled. She got between Rick and the angry crowd. "All of you go home. Right now." A few people mumbled complaints, but most of them got moving. Whether it was her words or the gun Rick was pointing at them that made them go, she wasn't sure. Once she was sure the crowd was dispersing, Deanna turned around to deal with Rowan. She ignored Rick and his gun for the moment. Rowan was still croutched on the ground with her arms around her dogs. She looked like she might be in some sort of shock, which made Deann think it might be better to let her calm down and talk with her later. That was best for Deanna too, since she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do about this mess.

"Rowan," she said, "take your dogs and go home for now." Rowan nodded. Then she got to her feet. Her face and neck were smeared with blood. She said nothing, just signalled the dogs to follow her and started heading for her trailer, carefull to stay well away from Pete's dead body. Rick noticed her black dog growled at the dead man when he passed by, as if to give the man one last warning. Once she was about halfway down the street, Rick looked down at the gun in his hand and up to Deanna's face.

"Guess we are going to be havin' a talk?," he asked. Deanna nodded.

"Let's have it at my house, I need a drink first," she informed him. Rick smiled and since she had not insisted he hand the gun over, he tucked it back into his waistband. Carl had retreated back onto their front porch when Deanna sent everyone home. But he had not gone inside. Judith was fussing in his arms, her nap ended suddenly by the loud crack of gunfire. Rick gestured to the boy, letting him know he would be back. Carl nodded and headed inside the house, today's events registering as nothing more than another bad day to him.


	24. Chapter 24

**** This chapter contains a poem that I found on and fell in love with. The title was Wolfsong and the author was listed as The Visitor. ****

They had followed the man in the red jacket for most of a day before they lost him. Daryl wanted to keep looking, but it was starting to get dark. Aaron suggested they head back to the car and get some sleep, and Daryl reluctantly agreed. The two men shared a can of peaches and split one of the small travelling cakes that Rowan made for them to eat on the road. They looked a bit like lumpy rice cakes, but were actually a mix of dried meat and fruit stuck together with some rendered fat and grains. While not the most delicious treat, they were packed with calories and protein. Plus they were small and lightweight and required no refrigeration.

"What you think about that guy we saw today?," Daryl asked. He found himself watching the man and wondering if he was the knight that Rowan had told them about. Then he had to remind himself that he didn't believe in any of that crystal ball bullshit. He felt like he had been reminding himself of that a lot lately. And his inner voice was sounding less and less convinced.

"Well he didn't have a magic stick," Aaron said with a smile. Daryl laughed, wondering how the man seemed to know what he had been thinking.

"You belive in all that magical sh- junk?," Daryl asked. Aaron chewed at his portion of the small cake, picking out the dried chunks of apple and thinking about his answer. Rowan had given him a few warnings in the past that had saved his life. If Aiden had taken her advice and gone home to bed instead of charging off on that run, he would still be alive. But sometimes even Rowan didn't understand what she was talking about. Her predictions often only made sense after the event in question had taken place. The real question was, did he believe that they were going to meet a man that was going to help them out of a bad situation on this trip? Aaron nodded to himself. He supposed he did think that was true.

"Yeah," Aaron finally said. He nipped at the last bit of his cake before he spoke again. "If I can believe that dead people can get up and walk around chasing us for their dinner, I can believe that Rowan sometimes knows things before they happen." Daryl nodded but did not respond to what Aaron said. From the thoughtful look on Daryl's face, Aaron wondered if his question was about more than just the man on the tarot card.

"She tell you something else?," Aaron asked. Daryl nodded but still said nothing. "Well?," Aaron asked, knowing he was prodding a little. He was curious to know what Rowan told Daryl. Knowing her, the possibilites of what she might have said were endless. "Something about this run?"

"Naw," Daryl said. Rowan said a lot of shit to him, especially when they were in bed together. Most of it he didn't feel comfortable repeating, not to another guy anyway. Aaron looked at the way Daryl was standing. He was clearly uncomfortable with the topic at hand and Aaron decided he better quit being so nosy. If Daryl wanted to tell him what Rowan said, then he would tell him. He guessed it involved something private between the couple and tried to convince himself that it was probably none of his business anyway.

Daryl fished a smoke from his pocket and puffed on it awhile before he climbed into the backseat of the car and laid down across the seat. He got the little braid of hair and the crystal attached to it out of his pocket and held them in his hand. Feeling the smooth texture of the braided hair made him think about Rowan and the way she liked to spread her hair across the pillows when she slept. Since he knew Aaron couldn't see him, he even brought the little bundle up to his face and smelled it.

"I'm sorry," Aaron piped up from the frontseat, "I am dying of curiosity now about what she said to you." Daryl jumped slightly, like he had been caught doing something embarrasing and he quickly shoved the coil of hair back into his pocket.

"She said a lot of shit to me," Daryl retorted. Most of it he had been really into at the time, but when he thought about it later, some of it scared him a little. Those haunting wolf dreams he kept having, somehow the things Rowan said seemed to tie into them and it all mixed up in his mind in a big confusing jumble.

"Like what?," Aaron asked. He sounded eager to hear what Daryl had to say. Maybe a little too eager, and it made Daryl smile to himself.

"She told me wolves mate for life and that I was her wolf mate," Daryl admitted. His face felt a little hot repeating that but he knew by now that Aaron had no interest in poking fun at him.

"You don't want to be her wolf mate?," Aaron asked. Daryl could hear the concern in the man's voice, Aaron and Rowan were good friends. He didn't want to see her hurt.

"I didn't say that," Daryl answered back. He heard Aaron's soft laughter coming from the other side of the seat. Daryl excepted the man to keep on with his questions, but after a few minutes of silence Daryl heard him start to snore. For Daryl, sleep did not come so easily that night. He lay there, thinking about the other things that Rowan had said to him. Now that he was away from her, he thought he might be able to sort it all out better in his mind. Her presence was intoxicating and when she was around, he always felt inclined to agree to anything she suggested.

Really the wolf mate comment, or rather declaration, was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the things that came out of that woman's mouth. Daryl didn't mind, on the contrary, he liked that she was unpredictable. She kept him on his toes. The night before the poker party, they had been lying near the dying fire in her teepee and she had started spouting poetry. Her voice was soft and musical, her hands making little dancing puppets above her naked body. Daryl had no idea if she was repeating something that she memorized or just making that shit up on the spot. Neither would have surprised him. Most of the time he brushed her off with a kiss and a bit of laughter, but when he drifted off to sleep that night, her words followed him into his dream.

 _...Upon an ancient mountain wild_

 _above the snowcapped pines_

 _She raised up high her star filled eyes_

 _and sang her song divine..._

After her little poem, Rowan had pulled a warm blanket over them both and fallen quickly asleep curled into his side with her head on his chest like she had never said anything at all. Daryl lay there, running his fingers through her hair. Like most of the nights he spent with Rowan, he had a hard time knowing when exactly their time together had ended and when his dreams began.

One minute they were under the blankets by the fire, with Rowan's dogs snoring and snorting a few feet away. The next thing he knew they were in the snowy forest from her poem. She was not a wolf in this dream, instead she was wearing a long black cloak made of black wolf fur. The kind of cape where the hood was the head of the wolf, worn like a headdress. She came close enough to kiss him before she threw her head back and howled. The howl grew in volume until it was no longer just her voice. A whole pack was howling with her, their voices echoing through the woods. Daryl woke up in a panic to find the dogs outside barking and making a terrible racket. He could have sworn he heard howling in the distance but when he finally shut Lily up long enough to listen, he had not heard a damn thing.

Daryl finally fell asleep that night scrunched in the backseat with his hand over the pocket of his jacket. He dreamt, but for the first time in a long time, he didn't dream of wolves. When he woke all he could remember of his dream was the color red and the sound of Lily barking.

"Which way do you think we should go today?," Aaron asked, handing Daryl a bottle of water and staring at the map he kept in the glove box. Daryl stretched his shoulders out, trying to work out the kinks that came with sleeping in a cramped space. He could tell Aaron had been up for some time.

"You shoulda woke me when ya got up," Daryl mentioned to him. Aaron waved him off, more concerned with the map and his plans for the day.

"I was thinking we could try over this way. There are a few big stores over there, and maybe food. Food means people," Aaron announced. Daryl smiled and sipped at his water. What he was trying to figure out was why Aaron bothered to ask him which way he wanted to go when the man clearly had their whole day planned out already.

"Sounds good enough to me."

Four hours later, Daryl and Aaron were shut in a car surrounded by a sea of walkers. The place had seemed too good to be true right from the start. So many food trucks lined up in a row. Daryl cursed at himself for not trusting his instincts. Aaron found a note in the glove box of the car that he was still staring at. A note that said they were in a trap and people were going to come back and kill them. He ran his fingers over the paper, not able to shake that there was something familiar about the handwriting.

While Aaron and Daryl were debating what to do, suddenly the walkers around them started dropping. The two men did not wait, them flung quickly out of the car and followed their savior out of the fenced lot, shutting the gate behind them. When they were far enough away that the walkers couldn't follow, Daryl stopped to catch him breath. He finally took a good look at the man that helped them and when he did he almost started laughing. There he was, complete with his magic wand. The man from Rowan's card. The knight of wands.

He saw Aaron staring at the man with an identical smile on his face before he remembered his manners and made some basic introductions. Rowan had been right about the stick, but not about this man having a connection to him. Daryl had never seen this guy before in his life.

"Why did you help us?," Daryl asked. For some reason he just had to know.

"Because all life is precious Daryl," Morgan told him. The answer was strange, but felt right given the circumstance. And the man sounded sincere about what he said.

"You're him," Daryl blurted out before he could stop himself, "the knight of wands." Morgan smiled at the man, unsure of what that meant. But he didn't mind the sound of it. He had been called a lot worse than a knight in his life. Random blurting or not, these men seemed friendly at least. They were not threatening him like those unsavory men he had met earlier. And he could tell by their body language that they meant him no harm. Daryl didn't sound crazy to him, since he knew exactly what he was talking about, but to the man they just met, he must sound a little strange.

Aaron looked back an forth between the two men and decided he better try and explain what was going on. "Before we left a friend of mine read my fortune with tarot cards," he said, hoping the man would not think they were too crazy, "she said we would get into trouble and the knight of wands would save us. The man on the card had a long stick like the one you have."

"Guess she was good at what she does," Morgan said. That made Daryl laugh. He gave up. Fortune telling, dreams that meant something more than too much sex and spicy food before bed, magic crystals and love spells, he might as well just start believing in all of it.

"She is," Aaron said, smiling. Then he took a deep breath and started his well practiced recruitment speech. Going with them sounded tempting to Morgan. It had been so long since he had spent any time with anyone decent. And he felt a strong urge to go with them just to meet the woman that had told them their fortunes. She sounded intriguing, but more than that what Morgan felt was almost like a weird sort of deja vu. This was not all just a coincidence. He was meant to meet these people. But he was also determined to find Rick. He could not allow himself to be distracted from that path.

"Actually I'm lost," Morgan said, pulling a well worn map out of his pocket. "Maybe you could help me, I'm looking for someone."


	25. Chapter 25

After a rather exhausting discussion with Deanna, Rick stopped by the house to check on his kids. Then he headed out towards the back of the development to talk to Rowan. He still had his gun, convinced that what happened earlier was the exact reason that he should be carrying it. Deanna, of course. had been sure that the earlier incident was a prime example of why people should not have guns inside the walls.

Rick finally told her that if she wanted him to police herr town, he wasn't doing it without a gun. She had not seemed happy, but she had not taken the gun away from him either. Her husband Reg had been kind enough to point out that even in normal life, before the turn, cops had guns. That Rick having one didn't mean the community was going to turn into a military compound. Rick wasn't really sure if the man believed that, or if he was just trying to help them find a compromise. Either way it worked and he had the object of his desire tucked safely into the waistband of his pants.

This was the first time Rick had been out to the part of the town where Rowan lived. He had walked around the whole place checking the walls to make sure they were secure, but he had done that from the outside. Looking around, he passed by an area where there was a sizable garden growing. On the other side of the dirt road there was a large fenced area with a flock of chickens pecking around inside it. He even saw a few geese and one large turkey in there. Some fat white ducks were running around loose and they waddled across the road in front of him, heading for the garden.

A loud whistle came from the right, and Rick looked around to find the source of the noise. It took him a minute, but he spotted that girl Carl had been hanging around with hiding over in the garden behind a patch of tomatoes. An answering whistle came from back by the trailer. Rick couldn't help but smile. These girls were no dummies. If he had come out here looking for trouble, they seemed ready for him.

"Hi Enid," Rick said, giving the girl a wave. They both knew he had seen her, so there was no point in pretending he hadn't. She did not wave back, but instead crept deeper back into the garden where she would be spotted so easily. Rick shrugged and continued on his way. Outside the trailer, he was not expecting to see Eric. The man was sitting in front of the small trailer in a camping chair with a shotgun laid out across his lap. Rowan was no where to be seen.

"Where did you get that gun?," Rick asked the man.

"The same place you got yours," Eric informed him. Fair enough, Rick thought, wondering how many people in this town had guns that Deanna didn't know about. He saw some movement from the corner of his eye. When he turned, he saw Rowan peeking out from around the side of the trailer. She had a decorative knife in her hand that looked wicked sharp despite the ornate handle. And she had changed out of the bloody clothes she had on earlier. For the first time since Rick had seen her, she had a pair of pants on. And a well worn looking pair of boots. Sturdy clothes, the kind that were good to wear if you planned to be on the road. She was ready to leave this place if she had to, Rick thought. He guessed she probably had a bag packed already too. If he had anything to say about this, it was not going to come to that. Particularly since he had promised Daryl that he would look out for the woman while he was gone.

"You come to shoot my dog?," she asked him. Rick shook his head, understanding now why Eric was sitting in front of the trailer with a gun. The dogs must be locked up inside.

"No," Rick told her. The woman narrowed her dark eyes at him, like she was tying to decide if he was telling the truth or not. She stared at him for slightly longer than he felt comfortable with. He noticed, and not for the first time, that she had a way of looking at a person that made him feel like she could see inside his head.

Convinced that Rick had not come to do them any harm, Rowan came out from behind the trailer. She whistled for her dogs, who were not in the trailer as Rick had believed, but hiding over behind her teepee. That gave Rick a little laugh. She was smart. If anyone had gone charging into the trailer, she would have been able to shut them inside and take off with her dogs.

Rowan stuck her knife into the beaded sheath she had on her waist. Then she sat down in the chair next to Eric. He reached for one of her hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The dogs crowded in close to her, but made no move to threaten Rick.

"What do you want then?," Eric asked Rick. In his opinion, Rick ought to have come here to apologize for starting the stupid fight that caused all this trouble in the first place. He could act as righteous as he liked, but everyone knew him and Pete were fighting over Jessie because Rick liked her and Pete felt she belonged to him. Stupid straight boys, they acted like a couple of rutting deer. Which Eric wouldn't care about, except now his friend Rowan was involved in this mess.

Before Rick could answer, he saw Rowan and Eric leaning around to look at someone behind him. Rick turned, expecting to see Enid walking towards him. Instead he saw Jessie. She had her younger son's hand in hers and she was marching towards them like she was on a mission. Rowan was out of the chair and back behind the trailer with her dogs by the time Rick turned back around.

"It's alright Rowan," Jessie called over to the woman. She pulled two chairs over from near the firepit for her and her son. Placing them on the opposite side of the trailer door from Eric, she plopped down in her seat and crossed her legs. "I just came to make sure no one gets any funny ideas about doing anything to Roe's dogs," she explained to Rick and Eric. Both men just stared at her, but Rowan came scooting around the corner to lean down and hug the woman.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Rowan told her quietly. Jessie hugged her back.

"It wasn't your fault," Jessie told the woman firmly, "just like it wasn't your fault the last time." The last time Pete got bit, Jessie had been trying to talk him into coming home from the medical center because he was drunk. He hit her and then he tried to force himself on her. Rowan came in looking for something and caught him. She gave him a warning and when he didn't stop, she sent her dog after him. Jessie was grateful to her. That was the first time anyone had ever stepped in and tried to help her. Most people preferred to turn a blind eye and pretend they didn't know what was happening. Even Deanna.

"Uh.. ah...," Rick stammered, trying to remember what he had come there to say. The last person he had expected to see here was Jessie. Finally he got ahold of himself. "Deanna wants to have a meeting tonight, to give everyone a chance to bring up any issues they have," he said. Eric nodded. This was sounding better than he thought it would. Rick turned to Rowan, "she wants you to bring the dogs and have them sit with you so people can see they are not a threat." He had explained things as calmly as he knew how, but he could tell Rowan was upset anyway. Her eyes went big and wide.

"What if someone tries to hurt my dogs," she said. That was her first concern. And she was also afraid to go to a place where so many people would be looking at her, judging her and maybe directing angry words at her. "I don't want to go to any meeting," Rowan declared. As if to emphasize her statement, she crossed her arms under her breasts and sat in her chair looking very determined not to be made to go somewhere she didn't want to go. She was going to stay right here and wait for Aaron and Daryl to get back. That's what she was going to do.

"No one will hurt your dogs," Rick tried to assure her. Rowan just sat there with her arms crossed looking up at him. He could already tell that she was not going to be easy to reason with. He gave Eric a pointed look, hoping for some help from the man, but it was Jessie that spoke up.

"I think you ought to just go," she told Rowan, "otherwise people are just going to keep carrying on with this." Jessie glanced at Rick before she continued with what she had to say. "People are mostly blaming Rick for all this anyway." She could tell by his face that he was unaware of that fact, but once he got over his surprise he gave her a little nod. He would rather be prepared for what was about to come at him than be caught unaware.


	26. Chapter 26

There were a lot of people gathered around the fire. And a lot of them were angry. Rowan could feel the animosity coming off them like waves at the beach. They rolled over her, making her feel lonely and afraid. She couldn't hear the specific thoughts that individual people were thinking, having never been blessed with that ability. But she could hear more than most people, and at the moment it all sounded like a roaring wind tunnel or the ringing deafness that came after being in a place for too long where loud music was playing.

Eric was sitting on one side of her and Spencer had taken the seat on the other side, with Tank the trouble making dog between them. He had his hand on the big dog's head, stroking his fur, showing people that he wasn't afraid of the big dog and they didn't need to be either. Spencer had been up near the gate when everything had gone down. But he knew Rowan and her dogs well enough to know that if someone got but by one of them, they had done something to deserve it.

Deanna was sitting next to her husband, glancing down the road every few seconds, hoping Rick would hurry up and get there so they could get this meeting over with. If he didn't show up soon, she was going to have to start without him. She didn't really want to, but she could tell people were starting to get restless.

Rowan watched as Deanna got up and started talking. She gave a short speech about community and what that meant. Rowan felt like the words flowed over her like water, nothing sinking in. The longer she sat there, the louder the roar in her ears got and the stonger the urge to run away became. She could feel danger, all around her, closing in and engulfing her. The one eyed raven, pecking at her and repeating the same word over and over again. RUN.

Spencer felt Tank's body start to rumble. The sensation was unsettling, like feeling the earth move under your feet at the beginning of an earthquake. At the time everything happened so fast that he didn't think anything of it. But later, when he played back the incident in his mind, he would remember clearly that Rowan was on her feet before there was any possible way she would have been able to see the walker coming.

The light of the fire made them all blind to the darkness around the outside of the small circle. When the walker came into view, it seemed like it had appeared out of thin air. Deanna had her back turned addressing the small crowd. Since she was making the most noise, the monster headed right for her. Spencer felt frozen to the spot, like he could not have moved a single muscle in his body if his life depended on it. But he heard Rowan commanding her dog and then he felt his chair rock to one side, almost spilling him over onto the ground, as the giant animal pushed past him.

Deanna turned just in time to see the walker coming at her. Her eyes opened wide with fear and she heard her husband scream out her name. The thing was coming at her so quick she didn't even have time to put her arms up to defend herself. It reached for her and she felt the tips on it's fingers brush across the skin in her cheek. Then as quickly as it had appeared, the walker was gone. Rowan's dog had it pinned to the ground, barking meancingly in it's face. The animal had moved so fast that he had looked like nothing but a giant black blur against the night sky. Then Rowan was next to him, pulling a knife from her belt and stabbing the walker in it's eye socket, killing the brain. She gave Tank a pat on the head.

"Good boy," she told him. Then Rowan stood and turned to look at the people sitting down around the fire. A few had gotten to their feet, but most were still sitting, staring at her and Tank with their mouths open. Lily ran over and grabbed the already shredded pants the walker was wearing, giving it's leg a vigorous shake. Then for good measure, she barked at the thing a few times. When she felt she had done her part, she took her place next to Rowan on the opposite side from where Tank was sitting.

Olivia stared across the fire at her friend. Rowan's dark hair hung down, and her face was light by the fire in dancing shadows. In that moment she looked less like a normal woman and more like some kind of wild guardian angel. Even Deanna was staring at her with her mouth open. Then Reg crossed the space between them, first taking his wife into his arms and hugging her tightly. He let go of her and wrapped his arms around Rowan, feeling her hugging him back as tightly as he was holding her. There was not a doubt in his mind that his wife would have been bitten if Rowan had not stopped that walker.

"Someone left the gate open!," Rick yelled out, charging into view with another dead walker over his shoulders. He tossed it down on top of the one Rowan had killed. It landed with a sickening thud. There were a few gasps from the crowd and one woman cried out. "I killed three other ones, but there might still be more," Rick added.

"I think everyone better go home...," Deanna started to say. Who knew if there were more walkers roaming around. And this unforunate incident might have actually been a good thing. People were already looking more impressed with Rowan's large black dog and less afraid of him. Maybe they were wishing they had such an animal around to protect them from walkers. They could also see now how Rowan had made it so long on her own without a gun before she came here. The rumor people liked to spread around was that she was a witch and used magic, but in fact she used nothing more than a well trained dog and a sharp knife.

Lily had been sitting on her haunches next to Rowan, but suddenly the dog was on her feet, barking like a lunatic. People got scared, immediately thinking she must be barking at another walker. But Rowan could tell the difference between her happy bark and her warning bark. Right now the dog was really excited about something, her tail was wagging a mile a minute and she ran around Rick in a circle, almost knocking the man right over. When he looked to Rowan to see if she was going to do something to control her dog, he saw her face was lit up with a huge smile. She was pulling at the handkerchief she had tied to her wrist.

"They're back," she told him. Before Rick could ask the woman who the hell she was talking about, she was darting around him, rushing into the darkness beyond the light of the fire. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Deanna's husband laughing with his arm around his wife.

Daryl was ready to walk straight back to Rowan's trailer the minute he got inside the gate. But then he heard the sound of Lily barking. Without at word he headed for the noise, Aaron and Morgan close behind him. He could see a small bonfire as they got closer, and some people standing around near it, their bodies silhouettes against the light of the fire. How she knew he was there was beyond him, they had not made any noise and were still too far enough away from the light of the fire to be seen. But suddenly Rowan was in his arms, her mouth on his, kissing him like they were alone in her trailer instead of standing a foot away from Aaron. He held her tight against his chest, feeling both the dogs crowding in and rubbing their large bodies against him.

When the two of them came up for some air, Aaron cleared his throat loudly. He was ready to try and make some sort of introduction between Rowan and Morgan, though he had a funny feeling in his stomach that the man already knew who she was. Before he could speak, he heard the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked. They all turned in the direction of the noise, Daryl using one arm to push Rowan behind him.

"That dog killed my dad," said a figure that was holding out a gun, edging closer to them. The light of the fire gleamed off the metal. Aaron still had his gun on him from being on the road, but he was afraid to pull it out for fear that it might get them killed.

"Ron?," Rick asked, walking towards them, "just put the gun down son."

"No!," Ron yelled. His voice was thick and it cracked when he spoke. He had been crying hard, and maybe still was. "That dog killed my dad," he repeated. He edged closer, pointing the gun at Tank, who was now standing in front of Daryl and Rowan with his hackles raised and his teeth bared, issuing a low warning growl. He could smell the fear in the air, coming both from the boy and the people behind him.

Ron's fingers started to squeeze down on the trigger when he was hit from under his hands, making the gun fire off up into the air above them. Morgan hit the boy again, in the head this time. But he checked his force, only using enough to knock him down, not enough to hurt him. Rick moved forward and quickly grabbed the gun from Ron's hand, shoving it into his pocket. Jessie was next to him now, looking down at her son. She leaned down and helped him up.

"I will take him home," she said. It came out like more of a question, so Rick nodded at her. The boy was just upset. Rick doubted he would try anything that stupid again. Tank growled at the boy again but made no move to harm him. By the time Jessie was marching her son away from the small crowd, Rowan had edged out from behind Daryl. She took her first real look at the man that had saved her dog. His clothes and skin were dark, blending in with the blanket of night around him, but the light coming from him was violet streaked with pure white. Before she could stop herself, Rowan had her arms around the strange man's waist, hugging him with her head resting on his chest.

The man gave her a little pat on her head and she let go of him, stepping back out of his reach. Even in the dim light, Rowan could see the man was smiling at her. She knew the proper thing to do would be to thank him for saving her dog. But she found herself saying something else instead.

"I knew you were coming," she said, "you're the knight of wands." Her hand came up, grasping at the crystal around her neck. The man laughed, not a mockingly, but soft and gentle. His laugh felt the same as the pat on her head he had given her.

"People usually call me Morgan."

 **** Morgan's arrival is going to mark the end of the first half of the story. I started with the first half of the story outlined, but I am not 100% sure yet on what I am doing with the second half so suggestions are welcome. Thanks to everyone that has taken the time to leave a review. ****


	27. Chapter 27

**Part 2**

Daryl was half awake when he reached across to the other side of the bed, finding it empty and already cold to the touch. He was warm and comfortable cocooned under the heavy blankets. Briefly, he considered rolling over and going back to sleep, but then he sighed and braced himself for the rush of cool air that hit his naked form as he kicked all the blankets off at once. The days were still warm but it was getting colder and colder at night, making him homesick for the warmer weather of southern georgia where he had lived for all of his life. Until now.

Pulling on his pants and shirt, he headed out of the small trailer barefoot with a cigarette between the fingers of his hand. He looked around for Rowan. As soon as he spotted her, he felt the urge to start muttering curse words under his breath. Tucking the smoke behind his ear, he ran over to snatch the 5 gallon bucket she was hauling out of her hands. Of course the thing was full to the brim with water that splashed all over both of them.

"You are not supposed to be putting weight on your wrist," he reminded her, "and where is that brace thing Rosita gave you?"

"I can't pick anything up with that thing on," Rowan informed him.

"That's the point," Daryl reminded her, shaking his head and lifting the bucket up like it was full of feathers instead of water, one hand underneath and the other keeping hold on the lip to keep it steady. Rowan walked ahead, opening the gate to the goat pen for him. He headed over to the water trough and poured the contents of the bucket into it, noticing that it was already most of the way full, which meant Rowan had already carried that heavy bucket over here at least three times by herself before he came out and caught her.

"Tole you to get me up and I would help ya," Daryl told her, trying hard not to yell at her. The man that had dared to put his hands on Rowan was already dead. So there was nothing Daryl could do about what happened to her. Because of this, he was left with a whole mess of pent up anger and frustration inside him and no one to take it out on.

"You looked tired," Rowan told him, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Really he had looked sweet and peaceful sleeping there, with one hand up under his face as he rested it against the pillow. She had not had the heart to wake him. And looking down at him a Thomas Dekker quote had popped into her mind. "Sleep is the golden chain that ties health and our bodies together."

Daryl looked back at her. The bruises on her face were still at the point where they were looking worse instead of better, but the swelling around her eye was gone. Her wrist was puffed up something terrible though, with dark purple finger sized bruises and red srapes all around it. Looking at it made him feel sick. She tucked her wrist behind her back and smiled at him. Her smile was catching, but he was not going to be distracted from the current topic of conversation.

"You outta put that thing back on your wrist," he said. Rowan's smile got wider.

"I don't know where it went," she said. Daryl shook his head. She was the worst liar he had ever seen. He knew full well that she just didn't want to wear that thing because it was uncomfortable. "I think maybe Lily chewed it up," Rowan added. Another lie, Daryl thought, trying again not to smile. Whenever Rowan got ready to tell him a big fat lie, she looked down at her hands first and then smiled like she was about to burst out laughing while she talked.

"Well then, we will just have to go on down to the medical center and getcha another one." Rowan's big eyes got wider when he said that. Then she wrinkled up her nose like she was smelling something bad. She already tried laying on the charm, now she was trying to think up any excuse not to wear that horrible device. She couldn't bend her wrist with it on and it pinched at the skin on her arm if she moved too fast. Plus she hated anything on her body that felt tight or restricting. To top all that off, the thing was ugly and it smelled weird.

"Fine," she said with a little huff. Moving around Daryl, she crouched down and retrieved the wrist brace from under the water trough where she had hurled it earlier in a mini fit of rage. She had almost dumped a whole bucket of water because the stupid thing caught on the handle of the bucket while she was trying to pour it.

Pushing her hand into the horrid contraption made her wince and it felt like all the sensitive spots on her wrist were being squeezed at the same time. Daryl caught hold of her, taking the thing and loosening up the straps so it wasn't so tight. Even the noises the thing made were unpleasant, terrible ripping sounds of the synthetic velcro pulling apart and sticking back together.

"How long do I have to have it on," she asked. She was thinking about as long as it took Daryl to take his eyes off her again.

"Six weeks," Daryl told her, even though he knew she remembered exactly what Rosita told her. Rowan had the memory of a damn elephant. If she could quote poetry she learned as a child, she could remember the simple instructions that she was given to her the night before on how to take care of her sprained wrist.

Thinking about keeping the horrible device on her arm for over a month was more than Rowan could take after the stress of everything that had happened with Tank. She spun on her heel and stalked off over to the firepit, letting the wooden gate slap shut and fling open again behind her. Sinking down in a chair, she wiped at her eyes, feeling the tears starting well up and spill over. Tank got up from his shady resting spot to trot over and lay his head in her lap. He nuzzled his head into her and then started licking the brace on her wrist.

Daryl stood by the water trough, staring after Rowan with a look of confusion on his face. One minute she was laughing, and then next she was running off looking like she was about to have a breakdown. Women were crazy, every last one of them. He scratched at his head and lit his smoke, taking a few puffs before he went after her, trying to avoid stepping on the larger piles of goat shit since he still didn't have any shoes on. He went out the gate and latched it shut securely behind him. Then he headed over to where Rowan was sitting.

She was wiping at her eyes, staring at the thing on her arm and looking more miserable than ever. Tank was licking her, but he took a break to stare up at Daryl like he was the devil. Daryl stared right back at the dog, one eyebrow raised. Then he bent down and started pulling the straps on Rowan's wrist brace loose so he could get it off without hurting her.

"How s'about I wrap it up in an ace bandage and you promise to stop pickin' up heavy shit with it?," he asked her. "Deal?" Rowan nodded vigorously, pulling her wrist out of the contraption and holding it to her chest with the other hand. Daryl hurled the thing away and it landed in the dirt under a camping chair. When he turned back, he could see Rowan was crying harder, pulling up the neck of the baggy shirt she was wearing to wipe at her face. He wasn't an expert on crying women, but it wasn't hard to guess that she was upset about more than her sprained wrist. Daryl knelt down and put his arms around her, pulling her against his chest.

"I'm sorry," she said between sobs, "I'm still upset about what happened yesterday I think." Daryl rubbed her back, grateful for the explanation, which sounded reasonable. He was upset about what happened too, and angry at himself for not being there. Slipping one arm under her, he lifted her up out of the chair she he could sit down and hold her in his lap. "I was so scared," she whispered, leaning her head into his shoulder and feeling her emotions starting to even out and come back under her control.

"When that guy hit ya?," Daryl asked her. He had been playing her account of what happened over and over in his mind. Except in his mind the fight ended with him beating that Pete guy's face in.

"No," she told him. Getting grabbed and slapped at by a large drunk man had been frightening, but that's not what was still lingering in the back of her mind. "I was scared I would have to leave and then I might not see you again."

Daryl did not say anything in response to her statement, but Rowan felt his arms go tighter around her. One hand came up, his thumb gently stroking over the bruised part of her face. Rowan could tell he was really thinking hard about what she just told him, so she didn't say anything else. Instead she leaned in even closer, so that the tip of her nose brushed across the sensitive skin behind his earlobe. Then she kissed him on the neck, soft kisses that were wet from the tears she shed. She got to his mouth, kissing him once fully on the lips before he caught her by the chin with his thumb and forefinger. He held her gently, moving his face back and away from hers so he could look at her.

"Let's get dressed," he said, "I got somewhere I want to take you."


	28. Chapter 28

The day started out sunny but not too hot. Morgan had been given an empty house to sleep in. He wasn't really sure if he was supposed to stay in the house. But since the door had been locked from the outside, he decided that it might be best if he stayed put for the time being. The people in this town seemed nice and he didn't want them to be scared of him.

Rick showed up about a half hour after Morgan woke up, while he was practicing his aikido. He took Morgan over to the home of the woman that was the leader of this town. She gave him a short interview, which oddly enough she video taped. The vibe Morgan got from her was, since he had saved the lives of two of their people, she had already made up her mind to let him stay. The interview was just a formality. Her name was Deanna and her house smelled like fresh bread and flowers. The place felt almost surreal after everything he had been through in the last two years. Morgan felt a bit like he was waking up from a bad dream, unsure if his dream had been real. He felt a little crazy, but not in the same bad way he had been before.

Morgan was not assigned a job yet, but he had expressed interest in helping with the animals. Deanna let him know there was someone she was going to have to check with before she could offer him that job. He wondered if it was the girl with the dogs. Morgan met her briefly the night before. But he had been seeing her for months in his dreams. Ever since the day Eastman died.

In his dreams her long hair always covered most of her face, but he knew it was the same woman. He recognized the markings on her hands and the sound of her voice. She had led him to the church where he found the map with Rick's name written on it. Her tattooed hand gliding through the woods, touching the trees to feel their texture. Morgan had come to think of the dream woman as his personal guardian angel, and to find her here in the flesh felt unsettling. But it also felt right.

Everyone Morgan had ever know was dead. And he was alive. He couldn't believe anymore that he had survived against all odds for no reason. Everyone had a purpose, a destiny to fufill, and he knew now that his had something to do with the girl from his dreams.

Once Deanna was finished speaking to him, Rick and Morgan walked back to Rick's house together. They talked a little, the conversation awkward and strained before it began to flow easily. Morgan sat on the front porch of Rick's house while Rick went inside to tend to the needs of his daughter. Michonne invited him in, but he politely declined. The day was too beautiful to be spent indoors.

Morgan took out a cloth and rubbed at his wooden staff, making sure there were no splinters coming out that might stick into his hands. When he looked up, he saw Daryl coming up the walk. He gave Morgan a little nod as he passed by on his way inside the house. The girl was with him, and her two big dogs. But she hovered out by the sidewalk near the curb. He had not seen them the night before in the dim light of the fire, but she had bruises all over one side of her face. From the way he had seen them acting together, Morgan knew the marks had not been put there by Daryl and he was curious about what happened to her.

Rowan noticed the man's gaze and untucked her hair from behind her ear, brushing it forward to cover the angry looking marks on the side of her face. She had not looked in the mirror, partly because she didn't have one, and partly because she didn't want to see her face looking beat up. But she could tell by the concerned way Daryl had looking at her that her face looked pretty bad.

Morgan felt compelled to get up and go talk to this woman, but he made himself stay where he was. She had hugged him the night before, but now she didn't look so sure about him. So he sat quietly and held her gaze, waiting to see what she would do. He didn't mind having the chance to get a better look at her, compare her to the images from his dreams. She was meduim height and a little on the skinny side, almost frail looking with delicate hands and slim arms. Her hair was long and thick, hanging down around her almost to her waist. She had a loose pair of flowy patterned pants on, the kind that looked like a long skirt when she was standing still. On top she was wearing a soft looking buckskin vest with some fringe hanging off the back. A bag with a long strap was over one of her shoulders. In his dreams she was always barefoot, but now she had sandals on.

Rowan saw the man was looking at her, but his gaze did not make her uncomfortable, the way some men did. He just seemed like he was taking her in, more curious than sexual. Shifting her bag more to the side of her, Rowan walked towards the man, signaling her dogs to stay back. She stopped just out of reach and watched him, waiting to see if he was going to say something to her. Rowan knew he had something he wanted to say, but he just sat there quietly looking at her. Then she noticed the weapon in his hands.

Morgan continued observing the woman. He could tell she was watching him closely. And then her gaze drifted down to the staff he was holding. Edging closer, she reached out and ran the tip of one slim finger down the smooth length of the wood, stopping and pulling her hand back right before she would have made contact with the skin of his hand.

"Penthesilea," she said, smiling at him. Forgetting her face, Rowan pushed at her hair, tucking it back behind her ear and out of the way.

"No," Morgan said to her. He tapped at his chest, "Morgan." Rowan giggled. She could tell he was having a little fun with her. He knew she had been talking about his staff and not him when she said the name. The way he tapped his chest reminded her of one of the only movies she had ever seen. An old black and white movie that her mom showed her after Rowan read the book it was based on at least twenty times.

"Me Jane, you Tarzan?," Rowan joked. Finally she saw the man crack a real smile.

"Who's Penthesilea?," he asked.

"The Queen of the Amazons," Rowan told him, "She accidentally killed her sister with a spear when they were hunting together. After that the Amazons only fought with sticks that were blunt on both ends. Like yours." Rowan was impressed with the stick. She didn't care much for violence, but if she was ever going to learn to fight, the Amazon staff would be her weapon of choice.

"Queen of the Amazons," Morgan repeated, "I think I liked the Knight of Wands better." He saw his joke made the woman smile bigger, showing her one tooth that stuck out a little to the side. In his dreams she never smiled, which was too bad. When she smiled, the goodness inside of her shone out. It would have been impossible not to smile back.

"We are having a celebration dinner tonight," Rowan told him, "maybe you would like to come?" Unlike most people that came to live in this town, this was one that she could tell she would like to get to know better. He had a good aura and she liked the way he observed people without judging them first.

Before Morgan could answer, the woman was dashing back out to where her dogs were standing. Rowan heard Lily start to growl. And the noise had an unfamiliar tone to it. Tank was sniffing at her hindquarters and Lily did not seem to like it. When he moved closer, Lily turned, growling and snapping at him. Tank moved back, but then he started edging closer again. Rowan ordered him away, worried that Lily might have sustained some injury that she was unaware of. She pet the dog to calm her, and then took a look at her back legs. When Rowan lifted up the dog's tail, she knew right away what was wrong.

"Somethin' wrong with Lily?," Daryl asked, hurrying down from the porch steps and heading her way.

"Not really," Rowan said, "she's in heat." Lily was still a fairly young dog and this was only the second time she had been in heat. The first time Rowan had been out in the beyond and she had to tie a leash to the dog to keep her from running away and then she had to put Tank in another area to keep him away from her. Being pregnant on the road was scary for anyone, even a dog. And she would have had nowhere to keep the puppies. That time Lily's heat passed quickly, but Rowan had a feeling now that the dog was well fed and had ample safe space to dig a den, her heat might come on stronger this time. "I don't think we should take her out with us today, she might run off."

Tank was starting to edge closer again, and Rowan really scolded him. Tank always listened to her when she told him to stay. But Gaia's urges were strong, even for dogs. Without them, there would be no new life. He went back to sit on his haunches, but Rowan could tell by the way he held his body that he was not happy about being made to stay.

"Maybe Enid could watch her?," Daryl suggested, "she's inside with Carl." He left out the part where while he had been inside, he had a few choice words with Enid about not helping Rowan with the goats that morning. The girl had ignored him, like she usually did, but Daryl had been able to tell by her face that she didn't know how badly Rowan's wrist was hurt.

Rowan nodded, then grasped Lily by the collar and walked her towards the house. She signalled the dog to go inside. Michonne was in the doorway and she moved back, flattening herself against the doorframe to avoid being trampled. Rick had come out onto the porch with his daughter and was sitting next to Morgan.

"Is it okay if Lily stays here while we go out?," Rowan asked the man. Rick smiled. He liked how she sent the dog inside his house first, and then asked him if it was alright. Before he could answer, he heard Enid yelling at them from inside.

"If your freaking dog humps me again, I'm locking her in the bathroom," Enid called out to Rowan. Morgan started laughing. This was all just getting better and better. There was no tv here, so watching someone get humped by a giant dog sounded like it had the potential to be amusing.

"We can watch the dog," Rick agreed once he saw that Rowan was still staring at him waiting for an answer. He knew Daryl was mad at him about what happened while he was on his recruiting mission. And Rick hoped if he kept an eye on the dog, it might help to ease the tension between them.

"Don't feed Lily any cheese and don't let her run away," Rowan told him. Her instructions were fairly simple, and Rick nodded his agreement. Michonne stepped out onto the porch and shut the door. If they were going to keep the dog inside, she guessed it might be best to keep the doors shut.

Judith was excited, bopping around in Rick's lap, clapping her little hands and shouting, "Tote, Tote!" This was her word for goat, and also for really any animal that she could see. At the moment, her sights were set on the big black dog who was sitting on the sidewalk. Rowan leaned down to take Judith into her arms. Rick noticed that unlike other people, Rowan never bothered to ask if she could hold the child. She simply plucked her right out of his arms and held her close, kissing her chubby baby cheeks as she walked towards the sidewalk where the dog was sitting.

Rowan knelt down and Tank crowded in, getting a sniff on the tiny pink human his mistress had in her arms. He gave the baby a sloppy dog kiss, making her squeal in delight. Judith grabbed at his tounge, reaching into his giant mouth. When all she got was a very wet hand, she went for his eyes and ears instead, pulling and poking. Rick sucked his breath in, but let it out when he saw the dog was sitting very still, letting his daughter do anything she wanted to him.

"Nice pet," Rowan told the girl, taking her little hand and running it over the top of the dog's head. "Gentle." Judith was so excited, her little legs were kicking. She did make some attempt to pet the dogs head before yanking at his ears again.

"Are you all crazy?" The voice was loud and it was coming from the porch next door. Rowan stood up and turned towards the voice, seeing the woman with the grey hair she had seen a few times before was heading in her direction in a hurry. She didn't care much for the woman, something in her body language just seemed deceitful. She made Rowan uncomfortable. Tank cocked his head to the side, watching the woman closely. He didn't usually think of women as threatening, but he didn't care for the tone this one had in her voice.

Rowan watched the woman charge towards her and snatch Rick's daughter from her arms. She let Carol take the baby and then backed off and snapped her fingers to keep Tank close to her. Daryl moved towards her and Rowan felt his arm go around her waist.

"That dog killed someone yesterday," Carol announced loudly, "what if he bit Judith?"

"I don't think he was planning to bite her," Rick said from his spot on the porch. Carol turned, looking at him in surprise. From inside the house next door, she had only seen Daryl and that woman outside. If she had known Rick was sitting on the porch, allowing his daughter to pet the dog, she might not have reacted the way she did. She walked over and set Judith down in Rick's lap. Then she headed inside the house, shutting the door behind her. Through the door, Rowan could hear the woman shriek. And then there was a loud thud and a lot of commotion. Rowan headed towards the house.

"Lily isn't hurting that lady is she?," she asked Michonne, who was peeking through the narrow window next to the door.

"No," Michonne said. When she turned, Rowan could see that she was holding in laughter. "Enid and Carl pulled her off."

"What was she doing to her?," Rowan asked. Lily was a friendly dog, but since she was in heat, there was no telling what she might do. And Rowan would feel terrible if any of these people got hurt by her dogs. Michonne had to take a deep breath to get her laughter under control before she answered.

"She wasn't hurting her, she was humping her."


	29. Chapter 29

Before she could toss the gun Spencer gave her into the trash, Daryl took it and shoved it into his waistband. He would rather she held onto the gun. If anything happened, he wanted Rowan to be able to protect herself.

"Could teach ya how to shoot," Daryl offered. Rowan raised one eyebrow, looking at him like he had offered to piss on her instead of to teach her a valuable survival skill.

"Guns were invented by boys who never got over their disappointment that accompanying their orgasms there wasn't a big BOOM sound," Rowan said, holding her hands up in the air and shaking them when she said the word boom. She had a playful smile on her face. All her life she had been told about how horrible guns were. If Daryl wanted to argue with her, she could go all day. Her father had taken her hunting when she was younger, but only with a hunting rifle or his long bow. Never with a handgun. She had never even seen one of those until after the turn. The only reason to have one of those was to kill a person, and she had no intention of killing anyone. If a bad person came, she would just run away from them.

"Being a smart ass ain't goin' to keep ya from gettin' shot," Daryl informed her. She still had a little smirk on her face, which meant she probably had plenty more smart ass remarks where the last one had come from. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close, kissing her on the mouth. The best part about kissing Rowan was the way she immediately yeilded to him, her lips parting as her arms went up around his neck. There was no games with her, and she made it no secret how she felt about him or how much she desired him. Her attitude towards sex was refreshing. She enjoyed having it, but sex was just another normal part of everyday life to her. Daryl's past experiences had been that once a girl had sex with him, she would usually act like he owed her something for it. He didn't get that vibe from Rowan. If anything, the give and take happened during the act itself not after it was over.

Tank let out a growl, his lips curling up to show his teeth. Daryl let go of Rowan, stepping in front of her and pulling his bow off his shoulder. There were two walkers coming their way, but they were old and slow. He shot the first one through the head with an arrow, dropping it. At Rowan's command, Tank took down the second one, holding it down until Daryl walked over and stabbed it in the eye.

"See," Rowan remarked, "we don't need the guns."

"The guns ain't for the dead," Daryl told her, "they're for the living."

"No one is going to shoot me," Rowan informed him confidently. People had tried to do other things to her. But no one had ever tried to kill her. Daryl looked at the bruises on her face and wrist, taking her hand in his and running his fingers over the markings in the back of it.

"No," he said, "but they might shoot Tank and make ya go with them." He didn't want to upset her, but he did want to make her understand where he was coming from. She looked at her dog, her bottom lip already starting to quiver at the thought of someone hurting the animal. Daryl swung the bow back onto his back and put his other hand under her chin, lifting up her sinking head. "You don't have to learn today," he said, "how 'bout ya just think on it a while."

"Okay," she said with a little nod of her head. She could think about it. All the things her mother and the elders had told her about guns had been true. But the world had been a different place then. If they had guns, maybe they might have been able to fight off the dead. Maybe her mother would still be alive. Maybe and maybe and maybe. So many maybes it made her head hurt.

"Let's go," Daryl said, taking her hand in his and heading in the direction of the lake. He had brought her out here for a reason. And he didn't want to waste the day arguing about guns. She would either learn or she wouldn't. He reminded himself again that Rowan made it this long without a gun. She could make it a while longer. This was not an emergency.

Rowan's hand closed around his, their fingers intertwined. They walked down the narrow path to the lake, Tank charging off to investigate any interesting smells and then appearing further down the path or dashing out right in front of them. When they got to the water, Tank charged in. He spashed around, barking and snapping at the shallow waves.

"You want to swim?," Rowan asked Daryl.

"Maybe later," he said, "got somethin' to show ya, remember?" She nodded and let him lead her around the edge of the water. They followed the lakeshore around, walking for what felt like a long way. Whatever Daryl wanted to show her, he was getting more and more excited about it. The aura around him was getting brighter and more colorful. It made Rowan curious about where they were going. She came down to the lake often, but never walked all the way around it. And she didn't swim over on the more shallow side they were walking towards because it was more marshy. Marshy water meant snakes and snapping turtles, two animals she had no desire to have an encounter with.

They headed into the woods, the vegetation getting thicker and harder to navigate through. Rowan ducked under a low branch, keeping close to Daryl. There was a clearing in the woods ahead of them and she had a feeling they were getting close to wherever he was taking her. Tank dashed around her, running towards a small cabin that she could now see through the trees. Daryl pushed through a bush, holding part of it back with his body so Rowan could get by without catching her pants or scratching up her legs on the spiny branches.

The cabin was small and it looked like it had been well loved before it was abandoned. There was moss growing on the roof below where the round metal chimney was sticking out. Most of the windows were boarded over, which meant whoever had lived there had survived long enough into the turn to set up defenses. A small creek that fed down into the lake ran across the front, and there was a little wooden bridge they had to cross over to get to the front door.

"Found this place while I was huntin', the day after we got here," Daryl told her. He opened the door, which was shut but not locked. Rowan followed him inside, while Tank ran around the outside of the place sniffing at the walls. The chimney came down and attached to a metal stove that was set up to double as a heater and a stove for cooking. Some animals had clearly made their way inside the place and entertained themselves by ripping up some of the previous owner's belongings. And the bed was bare, with a large dark spot near the top that looked like dried blood. But the place had potential, it wouldn't be hard to fix up. All the windows were still intact and the roof looked solid.

"Nice place," Rowan said. Daryl looked at her, his immediate response was to assume that she was making fun of him. Then he remembered who he was with. Rowan was looking around like she really was impressed with the place despite the mess on the floor and the stain on the bed.

"Only me and you know this place is here," Daryl said, "If anything happens again, like the shit yesterday with Tank, you leave and wait for me out here." Rowan felt like his words hit her right in the chest, making it hard for her to breathe. She had thought they were just coming out here to goof around. That he had found a neat place and wanted to show it to her. She had no idea that he meant for it to be a safe place for her in case she had to get out of Alexandria.

Rowan had taken her first lover when she was a teenager. And that one, along with every one after, had been more than willing to profess their undying love for her almost before the act was even finished. One man had written songs and poems for her. That young sioux man that she almost married had written her passionate love letters even after she had broken things off with him and gone home to her mother. But Daryl's simple act of bringing her here to the cabin he found touched her in a way that none of that ever had before. She wasn't sure if she could describe the feeling even if she tried. It was like her love was going to overwhelm her and bust right out of her chest, sending little rays of happiness everywhere.

Daryl watched the different emotions wash over her face. Then she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his waist and putting her hands up under his shirt, touching the bare skin on his back. He was used to tensing up when people touched his scars, but he found he didn't mind when she did. Rowan had seen and felt his scars many times when she had been rubbing his back or when they had been bathing together in the rain barrel water next to her trailer. She had never said a word about the marks. It almost made him forget they were there.

Daryl hugged her back, not sure where her sudden surge of emotions had come from. Before he could ask, he heard the distinctive sound of Tank's warning bark outside.

 **** This chapter contained a paraphrased quote from Lorrie Moore. The actual quote is "Guns, she was reminded then, were not for girls. They were for boys. They were invented by boys. They were invented by boys who had never gotten over their disappointment that accompanying their own orgasm there wasn't a big boom sound." Lorrie Moore, Like Life. ****


	30. Chapter 30

Rushing outside the cabin with his bow up, Daryl ran around the back of the cabin to find Tank growling and barking at a patch of grass. There was not a person, alive or dead to be seen anywhere. Rowan called the dog away and snapped her fingers so he would stay close to her. Daryl looked at the dog like he figured Tank had been carrying on for no reason the way Lily did sometimes, but Rowan knew better. She held on finger up to her lips and moved closer to the spot Tank had been barking at. Cocking her head to one side, she closed her eyes and listened.

There was nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees at first, but then she heard it. The muffled sound of scratching and then a faint moan. The noise was coming from under their feet. Rowan opened her eyes, she could tell from looking at Daryl that he had heard the noises too. He motioned for her to back up and then started stomping around, trying to find a spot that felt different from the rest of the ground. A few feet away from the spot Tank was barking at, he found a patch of grass that felt more bouncy underneath than the rest of the small yard.

Kicking at the ground and shoving at the dirt with the toe of his boot, Daryl tried to feel around for an edge or some kind of handle that would open up what he guessed was a trap door under his feet. Tank came back over, digging at the ground and barking in his obvious excitement. After some feeling around with his feet, Daryl knelt down and ran his hand through the grass. His hand closed around a chain.

"Keep Tank back," he told Rowan, who quickly called the dog back over next to her. Daryl noticed she had her knife out, looking as nervous as he was to find out what might be under his feet. Dropping the chain, he swung the crossbow off his back and loaded it. Then he handed it to Rowan. She looked at the bow nervously, but took it without complaint and held it in her hands, aiming it at the spot in the ground that he had been kicking at.

"Don't shoot me," he told her. That made her smile, and she handed him her knife. Holding it in his mouth with the blade between his teeth, the sharp edge pointing out, he picked up the chain. He yanked on it experimentally at first, but once he felt the door start to rise, Daryl got on the other side of the door and pulled hard. The door flopped open, revealing the top of a ladder than led down into a dark hole in the ground.

When nothing jumped out at them, Daryl got closer and peered down into the hole with the knife in his hand. The noise they had heard was coming from a walker. It was standing at the bottom of the ladder, looking up at him and making some noises while it clawed at the rungs. He motioned to Rowan, letting her know it was safe to approach. Daryl noticed she had stayed back until he let her know it was safe, unlike many of the people he was used to dealing with that had a habit of rushing headfirst into danger to prove how brave they were.

Rowan saw the walker at the bottom of the ladder and moved to hand Daryl his bow back. He did not take it from her. Instead he moved behind her and put his arms around her's to help her aim.

"It's a'right," he assured her, "Hoss ain't goin' nowhere if you miss. Got plenty of arrows." Rowan thought about objecting, but she found she didn't mind the feel of the bow in her hands. It didn't feel as unnatural as a gun, but more like holding her father's long bow. She never had the arm strength to pull back the string on his bow far enough to shoot an arrow with it, but he used to let her polish it for him.

Rowan took a deep breath and stared down the length of the arrow, looking at where it was pointing. It helped that the walker at the bottom wasn't moving much and was not very far away. Once she got it's head in her sights, she pulled the trigger. The arrow fired off with so much force that it scared her a little. She gasped and stepped back, knocking into Daryl, who was smiling at her.

"Got 'im," he exclaimed, leaning over the hole. Rowan gave him a weak smile and handed the bow back. She wasn't sure how she felt about shooting her first walker. She had killed plenty of them with her knife, but that didn't take much skill. She felt a little pride for making the shot, but mostly she just felt the same way she always did when she had to kill a dead one. Sad. Their souls were long gone, leaving them as empty shells without auras. But they had been people once. She got over the horror of killing them not only because she had to do it or die, but also by telling herself she was giving them a sort of mercy. Killing the mindless bodies that tethered them to the earth released their spirits to continue on to better places.

"Wait," Rowan cried out as she saw Daryl swing over the side of the hole and start to climb down the ladder, "what if there are more down there?" Daryl stopped and kicked his boot against the side of the ladder a few times, making a loud clanging noise. He waited a few seconds, but when no more walkers appeared, he continued down the ladder.

Wishing for a flashlight, Daryl looked into the dimly lit space. There was a string dangling from the ceiling and he grabbed and yanked. A bare bulb illuminated the place, which was a larger room than he had expected. One wall was lined with shelves that held all sorts of food and supplies. There was a table with two chairs next to the shelves and a small bed against the opposite wall. Giant jugs of water were in a shelf that was built to hold them on the wall next to the bed. Daryl went back out and looked up the ladder at Rowan, who was staring down at him with an equal amount of interest and concern written on her face.

"Come on down, s'alright," he told her. Then he stayed put to make sure she didn't slip on the ladder and fall. Rowan climbed down, feeling Daryl's hands on her back once she got about halfway down. She stepped carefully over the dead walker, trying not to look at it. The small room felt like a tomb, and reeked of death and decay. But she was immediately impressed with the amount of food and supplies that it contained. There was a cup and an empty plastic pill bottle on the table. She picked it up and read the label. They were some kind of painkillers. Looking from the dead walker and then back to the bottle in her hand, Rowan understood the man must have killed himself.

"Why would he want to die?," she asked aloud, "he was safe down here with plenty of food and water." Daryl thought about her question. When he first found the cabin, there was a dead woman on the bed inside. She looked like someone had shot her in the head. Daryl had dragged her body out and left her behind a bush in the woods. He didn't much feel like telling Rowan about all that.

"Enough supplies down here for two, maybe he lost someone he loved," Daryl suggested. Rowan nodded and set the empty bottle back down on the table, wiping her hand on her pants like she touched something dirty. She reached for the crystal around her neck and held in her hand, calming and centering herself. Tank was at the top of the ladder whining, upset that Rowan was somewhere he couldn't go. The dog made her smile. He was just going to have to be patient for a few minutes.

"Where does that lead?," Rowan asked, pointing to a door at the other end of the room.

"One way to find out," Daryl said. He loaded his bow and held it up. There was no noise coming from the next room, but he figured better safe than sorry. He swung open the door and jumped back, pointing his bow at the doorway. When nothing came at them, he yanked at another string dangling from the ceiling, lighting the place up. The room was as empty as he had guessed it would be. Empty of people at least. One wall was full of weapons. Guns, knives, even some more unusual things like some kind of weird looking hatchet. The opposite one was lined with more food and supplies. Enough to last two people a long time. Maybe years. There was a pipe coming down that fed into a small fireplace. Daryl realized they must be directly under the cabin. The other side of the room had stairs that led up. He went up them and unlocked another trap door that led up inside the cabin.

Rowan followed him, whistling for Tank, who now had a way to get down into the bunker with them. Tank raced in through the open door of the cabin and charged down into the small room. He ran around sniffing at everything and gave the dead walker's leg a good shake. Daryl followed the dog down the steps and started looking around in the store room for something. Rowan saw him grab a long piece of thick rope and head for the ladder. He tied it around the dead body and then climbed the ladder, hauling the thing out behind him. Dragging it into the woods, he left it next to the other dead body he found inside the cabin, using the sheets that covered that one to cover them both. It wasn't much of a burial, but it was better than most people got these days. Especially from a stranger.

When he climbed back down into the bunker, Rowan was sniffing at the contents of a jar she opened. It looked like the jar was full of some kind of dried peppers, or maybe sliced green tomatoes with the seeds left in. But from the funny smile on her face, Daryl guessed it might be full of something else.

"What ya got there?," he asked her.

"I think it might be peyote," she said with a big smile on her face. She flipped her shoulder bag open and pulled out an empty plastic bag, then dumped about half the contents of the jar into it before twisting the lid back on and putting the jar back where she found it. The now full ziplock she shoved back into her bag. Daryl had heard the word peyote before, but he wasn't for sure on what it was. A drug his brother never sold, that was for sure.

"What's peyote do?," he asked her. She smiled again and moved forward into his arms to kiss him.

"You will find out later," she said, with a rather naughty looking grin on her face. Then her arms went around his waist, reaching up under his shirt. Daryl kissed Rowan once on the lips, then he told her to hold that thought. Climbing up the ladder, he pulled the outside trap door shut before he walked back through the place and closed the door that led up into the cabin. If they were going to start kissing, he didn't want to be interrupted.


	31. Chapter 31

When Rowan pulled her mouth back from his to suck in a much needed breath of air, Daryl turned his head to the side. Inches from his face was Tank's giant head, a little dribble of slobber hanging from one side of his massive jowls, ready to drip onto the bed.

"Come one man," Daryl complained, moving his head back and away from the dog. "Does he got to be so close to us?" Rowan had also been too preoccupied with what she was doing to notice that her dog was sitting so close. She rolled off Daryl onto her side and started laughing, her naked breasts juggling with the movements of her chest.

"Tank," she told the dog, gesturing towards the other room, "go lay down." Of course Tank chose to ignore her hand motions and lay down right where he was, looking up at them from an inch away from the cot they were lying on. The look of mock innocence on the dog's face was too much. Rowan tried to hold in the rest of her laughter as she climbed over Daryl and walked over to the door to the other room inside the small bunker.

"Go on Tank," she said, pointing into the room. Speaking to the dog in an authorative tone while being butt naked just felt silly to Rowan. And it seemed Tank thought so to, since he made no move to get up and sat there staring at her. She snapped her fingers and pointed again. This time the dog got up and trudged along as slowly as possible into the room Rowan was indicating.

"Shut the damn door," Daryl suggested. Rowan grabbed the door, pulling it most of the way shut, but leaving it open a crack. If she shut it all the way Tank was just going to start barking as soon as he heard Rowan make a sound. And listening to his loud mouth carrrying on was not exactly mood music.

Daryl lifted himself up on one elbow so he could see Rowan. He had seen her naked plenty of times, but looking at her never got boring. She had her long hair tied up on top of her head in a big sloppy bundle so it wouldn't get in the way while they were fooling around. So he could see the sloping curve of her neck and the smooth lines of her back. She was tiny through the waist, but her hips had a some curve to them. Her crystal hung down between her breasts on it's long silver chain.

Rowan stayed by the doorway, standing perfectly still. She could tell Daryl was looking at her, and his gaze made her skin feel hot. Closing her eyes, she took a few slow deep breaths before she opened them. Then she headed for the cot where Daryl was lying, happy to see that the problem with the dog had not diminished his arousal.

"Where were we?," she asked, her voice soft and husky sounding. She only talked in that tone of voice when they were about to have sex, and the sound of it made Daryl go even harder than he already was. He reached out, catching her by the wrist that wasn't covered in bruises and pulled her down onto the bed with him. When he shifted his weight onto his side, she slid across the bed so he could roll on top of her.

She loved the weight of his body on hers, and the feeling of so much skin touching skin. He kissed her, softly over the parts of her face where the bruises were, and then harder on the mouth. She parted her lips when she felt his tounge flick out. And when he pressed in, putting his tounge into her mouth, she felt the shiver run down her spine all the way to her toes.

When his tounge danced with hers, Daryl felt her moan softly into his mouth. Her knees came up and her hands moved down his back. Gripping his ass firmly but not so hard that it hurt, she rocked her hips back and pressed the part of her that was warm and wet into the trail of soft dark hairs that grew from his belly button down to into the thicker patch of hair at the base of his dick.

"Ready?," he asked her. One of her hands moved up, twisting into the hair at the back of his neck. Pulling his mouth back into contact with hers she bit at his bottom lip and sucked his tounge back into her mouth. Take that as a yes, he thought as he adjusted his body so he was lined up with her opening.

She had been wriggling under him, but now she kept still, squeezing his hips with her thighs once before her legs relaxed around him. He meant to start slow, but something inside him took over. There was something about this woman in particular, when he was with Rowan all his self control seemed to just fly right out the window.

Wrapping her legs around him, Rowan hooked her ankles and held onto his shoulders with her hands. She let him set the rhythm, rocking her hips up and back when he pushed into her. He was filling her with his body, like he had filled her with love and happiness upstairs in the cabin. With Daryl she didn't have to work for her orgasms, they just came. The pleasure washed over her in waves so intense that she could do nothing but close her eyes and hang on like Daryl was a buoy in the middle of the ocean and she was lost at sea.

For Rowan, it felt like their love making had gone on for a long time, but for Daryl it always felt like it was over before he was ready for it to be. Spilling inside her felt so good, but he still got a little nervous about the fact that they were not using any protection. She had assured him numerous times that she had some sort of tea she was drinking to keep from catching pregnant, so he forced himself to relax. It wasn't hard with Rowan's warm and mostly limp body next to him. She rolled towards the wall so he could spoon in behind her with his arm around her waist.

Down in this bunker, Rowan thought she would feel claustrophobic. She was not a fan of anything tight on her body or of small spaces. But the small bunker did not feel as closed in as she first thought it would. Instead of feeling constricted, she felt more like she was wrapped up in some kind of snuggly cocoon. They had been lucky to find this place. Which led her to thinking about all the food and supplies that filled the shelves just a few feet away.

"Do you think we should come back with a car and load this stuff up?," Rowan asked. Her voice was sleepy sounding and she had Daryl's had caught between her own hands, tracing little shapes on his palm with the tip of one finger.

Daryl didn't say anything at first. He had been thinking the same thing when he saw all this stuff. This would feed everyone in Alexandria for a few months at least. Longer if they stretched it out like they should have been doing with their supplies all along. But then Daryl started thinking selfishly. He could hear his brother's voice in his head, telling him not to be a fucking idiot. He wasn't really thinking about himself, but about Rowan. If they took all this back, he would have to tell them where he got it all. And then everyone would know about this place. He didn't like that idea, not one little bit. This place was supposed to be a secret. Their secret.

"I don't know if I want to take this all back," Daryl said. His comment sounded tentative, like he wasn't sure himself about what he was saying and also like he might be scared of what Rowan's reaction was going to be. He didn't want her to think he was a bad person.

"Can I take one bag of rice back?," she asked, "I really want some rice and Olivia is so freaking stingy with it." Daryl just lay there, his mouth dropping open. He was used to constantly being questioned over every decision he made. And he had been expecting Rowan to fight him hard on this.

"You can take whatever you want back," Daryl told her. He was quiet for a minute, but then he asked her a question. Keeping everything bottled up inside him was a habit he had all his life, but with Rowan he was finding it easier and easier to say what was on his mind. "Do you think it's wrong to keep all this stuff and not take it back to town?"

Rowan pulled his hand up near her face and planted a little kiss in the middle of his palm. She wasn't sure how to answer his question. The right thing to do would be to take all this back to town and share it. That's how she was raised. Everything was shared in the community she grew up in. But Alexandria was not the Acorn Community. People there thought about themselves first and other people came second.

"If the people at home were hungry or starving," she said, "then I think it would be really wrong." Maybe now it was just a little bit wrong? Another shade of grey in the strange rainbow her life had become. Daryl pulled her closer and kissed the back of her neck below her hairline. She had made a good point. The way things were, this stuff was just going to get piled into the giant locker full of supplies. The choice items would go quick, and the rest of it would sit there gathering dust.

"Would it be okay if I show this place to Enid?," Rowan asked. She knew the girl would never say anything to anyone. And if something bad happened in Alexandria, she wanted Enid to know where their fallback location was.

"Just show her the cabin," Daryl said, "don't bring her down here." Rowan nodded. She felt like that was fair. And she liked the idea that this place was only hers and Daryl's. Just when he was thinking about getting a little closer, and maybe going another round before they went back to town, Rowan was leaping out of the bed like jack in the box. She ran naked into the next room and grabbed Tank by his collar. She pulled him into the room and sat him down by the table, crouching next to him and holding her hand up to his mouth to make sure he didn't start barking.

"What the fuck," Daryl cursed. He knew by now that Rowan didn't act like a nut without reason. She held a finger to her mouth and then pointed towards the ceiling. Daryl got up, yanking his clothes on and handing Rowan her things. She warned Tank again to stay quiet before she let goof him and pulled her clothes on. She swung her bag over her shoulder and got her knife out, holding it tightly in one hand.

"Turn out the lights," she said. She noticed Daryl did not question her. He just darted into the next room and pulled the cord that turned off the bulb, then came back in and put one hand on her shoulder before he pulled the cord above them and plunged them into darkness.

"Are the doors locked?," Rowan whispered.

"Yes," he said, gripping his bow and giving her shoulder a soft squeeze with the other hand. They stood still a few moments, sitting in the darkness that was so complete it felt oppressive, like it was closing in on them. Then Tank let out a low growl deep in his throat. Rowan hugged the dog close and reminded him to stay quiet. Daryl heard the men then.

Their footsteps were loud and from the sounds of it there were at least four of them. They were stomping around in the cabin above his and Rowan's heads. The voices did not sound familiar and they were talking in a combination of English and a language that he couldn't understand. But he recognized the accent. It was the same one that Rowan had. It only crept in when she said certain words, or when she was telling a story, but it was there. Under the touch of his hand, he could feel Rowan start to shake.

"I told you I heard barking coming from this direction," one man said. Rowan knew Daryl could only catch part of what he was saying, but she understood every word. They were speaking Sioux. Or really a sort of bastard version of it, filling in the words they didn't know with English ones.

"I am sick of going on a wild goose chase every time you hear a dog bark," a second voice announced.

"It could have been Hekaza," the first man argued.

"She's long past dead man," another man said, his tone sounding more sympathetic, "and what would she be doing this far north in the first place?"

"She's from around here somewhere," the first man insisted, "maybe she was headed for home."

"Either way, she ain't here now," the second voice said, "let's go get that deer gutted out before it starts to bloat."

Two or maybe even three of the men could be heard exiting the cabin. The one that was left kicked around inside for a few minutes. Daryl could hear him moving around, maybe checking under the bed and behind the stove to make sure the place was empty. Rowan was gripping his hand, he couldn't see them but by the strength of her grip, he was willing to bet her knuckles were white.


	32. Chapter 32

**** A big thanks to everyone that took the time to leave a review. And welcome to the new readers that just started following the story, I hope you all are enjoying it so far. I don't want to spoil anything but I wasn't sure if I needed to give a heads up that there might be a mildly sexual scene between Carl and Enid coming up at some point in this story. Consider yourselves warned. ****

On the walk back to town, Rowan not only refused to say if she had recogized any of the voices of the men in the cabin, she had also insisted that she had not been able to understand what they were saying. An obvious lie, but Daryl decided to leave the subject alone for the time being. He could that tell she was scared and coming at her with a load of questions was only going to make things worse. He had the bag of rice she wanted under one arm and his crossbow in the other. From time to time he glanced back to make sure Rowan was still following him.

Her face was still pale under her freckles and she had her head down, looking at her feet while she shuffled along. Tank did not run around exploring the woods like he had done on the way out to the cabin, instead he stuck close to Rowan, his body touching hers in the spots where the path narrowed.

Once they could see the back wall, Daryl set his bow down and climbed up, tossing the bag of rice over. If they went through the front gates with it, whoever was up there would want to know where they got it. He climbed back down, landing with a huff. Rowan was standing there waiting for him, but she was still staring at her feet refusing to look at him.

"Who's Hekaza?," Daryl asked her. He had not been able to understand most of what those men were saying, but he had figured out they were looking for someone by that name. Rowan jumped when he said it, the same as she had when those men had said the name. Her eyes flicked up, meeting his for just a fraction of a second before she looked back down.

"I don't know," she said.

"I know that's not true," Daryl said. He tried to keep his voice calm and quiet. She wasn't going to tell him anything if he started yelling. He knew personally that the more people tried to pressure him to talk about something he didn't want to talk about, the less he wanted to say.

"Someone I used to know," Rowan finally admitted, "she died." Rowan wiped at her eyes. She looked so small and sad standing there. Like a child who had wandered away from her mother in the middle of a large store and become lost. Before he even knew what he was doing he was moving closer to her. Daryl felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her close to his chest.

"S'alright," he said, stroking her hair. He was done with the twenty questions game. Rowan would tell him what she had to tell when she was ready to tell it. She admitted she knew the girl those men were looking for, which meant she probably knew them. Or some of them at least. Daryl had already guessed that she and her father must have been with a group for some of the time that they were wandering. Even with the dogs, there was no way two people could have made it alone for years out there in what Rowan called the beyond.

"I wanna go home," Rowan said, her voice muffled. From the way she said it, Daryl guessed she meant her real home. Where she grew up. Not to her trailer in Alexandria. He felt the same way sometimes. Homesick for Georgia and the smell of peaches. But this was home now, and there was nothing to be done about that.

"Come on," Daryl said. He put an arm around her shoulders and started walking them both along the wall in the direction of the front gate. "Its not so bad here," he said, feeling lame and wishing he could find the words to say what he was really thinking. Finally he saw Rowan's lips turn up in a small whisper of a smile. It didn't go all the way up to her eyes, but it was a start. Her arms uncrossed and one dipped down under his to wrap around his waist.

She had no idea how Daryl had known that she meant her real home and not the trailer, but she was grateful for his understanding. And she was even more grateful that he wasn't pressing her about knowing the men she heard in the cabin. It scared her that those men were so close to Alexandria. But she reminded herself that her old group was nomadic. They wouldn't stay around here long and then they would be gone. With any luck they would never even know she or the town were here.

"Hey," Daryl called over to Rick, happy to spot him right inside the gates so he wouldn't have to chase his tail around town looking for him. He still had his arm around Rowan and he could feel her body tense up before she moved away from him.

"Something going on?," Rick asked. Daryl and Rowan were behaving like something was wrong. Their body language was off, epsecially hers.

"We saw some guys out in the woods when I was huntin'," Daryl said. It wasn't a total lie. But Rick didn't need to know everything, just the things that were important to the security of the town.

"Where?"

"Out on the far side of the lake," Daryl said, "Three or four of them." Rick nodded.

"Could you see if they had any marks carved on their foreheads?," Rick asked. Daryl cocked his head to the side, thinking about how strange of a question that was. And since he had not actually gotten a look at the men, he couldn't answer it. "Morgan said some men hassled him on the way here, they had W's carved into their foreheads," Rick explained.

"Too far away to see that," Daryl lied again, "didn't want ta get any closer 'cause Rowan was with me." That part was true. Rick nodded.

"I will put some extra people on guard duty," Rick said. Daryl nodded. He had told Rick what Rick needed to know. That there was a small group of men within walking distance of the town that may be dangerous. But lying to the man that he had been telling the full truth to for so long felt wrong. When he was talking to Rick, Daryl felt like a big bat was flapping around in his stomach. But when he turned back to Rowan, he could see the relief written all over her face. That's when he was sure he had done the right thing.


	33. Chapter 33

Carl leaned down, shoving his hair out of his eyes. He poked at the pancakes a few times to make sure the underside was browned before he flipped them over. Cooking over a real fire instead of cooking on a stove had a lit of a learning curve, but he was having a good time. Olivia was helping, and she brought a long link of fat sausages from her freezer that she and Rowan had made some time before. They were bubbling away in a cast iron pot with a few inches of water in the bottom.

"What kind of sausages are those?," Carl asked. Enid laughed, since she already knew, but did not offer up an answer to his question.

"Goat," Olivia told him, making him wish he had not asked. Carl had grown attached to Judith's milking goat. Eating one of her former companions didn't sound appetizing to him. He felt more like he had when he was eating those dogs Sasha shot out on the road.

"If it makes you feel better, the goat fell off the top of the trailer and broke two of it's legs, so we had to kill it anyways," Enid said, "no point in letting good meat go to waste." Enid left out the part where she and Rowan cried about a bucket of tears each over the poor animal and Rowan ended up having to go get Aaron to put the goat out of it's misery because neither of them could do it.

Carl smiled. Enid's story actually did make him feel a little better. But even if the goat had been axe murdered in it's sleep, now that the water was getting lower in the pan and the meat was starting to sizzle, it was smelling too good to resist. Some loud growling and barking made Carl stand up and turn away from the pancakes he was babysitting.

Rowan's two dogs were over near the goat enclosure. They were snapping at each other and tussling around in a flurry of teeth and fur. Carl watched Rowan turn to see what the dogs were doing, then she shrugged her shoulders and turned back, taking another sip from her mug of tea. She must have seen the look of concern on Carl's face because she gave him a reassuring smile.

"They won't really hurt each other," she told the boy, "they're only playing." Rowan had a feeling her dogs were getting ready to do a little more than play, and she had given up trying to make them stop. Locking Lily up in the trailer away from Tank only caused him to run around it like a black tornado, trying to get inside. He had almost broken the damn door down twice. When Rowan tried letting Lily out and locking him inside, he had howled like a freaking banshee until she released him from his prison. The noise scared her and made her afraid that the racket might be heard by more people than the ones sitting around her campfire.

From the way people were laughing at the noises coming from over by the fence, Rowan had a feeling her dogs were finishing what they started with the wrestling. She turned and looked, then shook her head and threw the hand that wasn't holding her tea up in the air like she was giving up. Hump your brains out for all I care, she thought as she bit at her lip trying not to laugh at her silly rutting dogs.

"How many puppies do dogs usually have?," Carl asked. He was watching the dogs, trying not to be too obvious about it. He didn't want to seem like a pervert.

"Up to a dozen, but usually closer to six," Rowan told him, "why you want a puppy?" Carl nodded then looked over at his dad, who was sitting next to Michonne on a bench style camping chair. Rowan invited them over for dinner to thank them for watching Lily while she and Daryl were gone. Rick gave Carl a shrug. When the puppies were actually born, and this place had not burned down or been overrun, then he would worry about whether or not Carl could have a dog. Not now. The truth was he had been impressed by how quick Rowan's dog moved to protect her from walkers and humans alike. He wouldn't mind having such a pet himself.

Rick had only been out to Rowan's area once, when he had come to tell her about Deanna's meeting. He had not really taken a very good look around the place then. Aside from the noisy rutting dogs, it was peaceful out here. After so long roughing it on the road, he felt like a fish out of water in his Alexandria house. Being out here at her campsite felt better, more real. He could see why Daryl had been spending most of his time out here, aside from the obvious reason that was sitting next to him, warming her bare feet by the fire. When Rowan invited him, Rick had assumed that he and Michonne were the only people coming to dinner besides Carl, Daryl and the two girls that lived out here. He was surprised to see the motley crew of people that had slowly trickled in and taken spots around the fire pit.

Morgan had walked over with them, having received an invitation of his own earlier that day from Rowan. He was leaning back against a big log, sipping on a mug of the same tea she was drinking. He had the look that seemed to be his signature these days, body relaxed but eyes alert and scanning. Aaron and Eric were there, sitting on cushions with Enid's kittens between them.

Olivia, the woman that ran the storage locker, had been there when he and Michonne showed up, along with Eugene. Seeing him out here had been another surprise, Eugene must have become involved with the woman he was here with some time ago and it had completely escaped Rick's notice. Last to show up had been Jessie. She came with Deanna's son Spencer, but it was hard to tell if they were some sort of couple, or if they had just happened to walk up together.

Rick had been keeping a very clear divide in his head. His people. Deanna's people. They were two separate groups to him and he was determined not to let Deanna's people slow his group down. But looking around now, he could see that line start to blur and become hazy. At least two of his people had already become more than casually involved with women here, three really if he counted Carl and Enid. He wasn't sure how he felt about that or what he could do about it even if he decided he didn't like the idea. Like Rowan's dogs, people had strong urges. Not only for sex, but for love and companionship. If they wanted to be together, Rick was not going to be able to say anything to stop them. And he wasn't sure if he even wanted to try.

The wind was starting to pick up. Some and little bits of ash from the fire were blowing around, getting in people's faces. Once the food was cooked, they were all more than happy to take their plates into the large teepee to eat. Rick was looking around at the inside of it, feeling a bit like a rubbernecking tourist from out of town. The place was bigger that it looked from outside, and lots of pillows, bean bag chairs and blankets were lying around.

Aaron had brought the kittens in with him and they were running around the place, chasing and playing with each other. One of them ran up Michonne's back, swiping at her dreads with one paw and digging it's tiny raptor claws into the skin underneath her shirt. She almost dropped her food as she tried to shake it off. Rick reached over and grabbed it by the scruff, pulling it off her and setting in on the ground. It puffed up and hissed at him, showing him how big and tough it was before it scampered off after one of it's litter mates. For the first time in longer than he could remember he heard the sound of Michonne's laughter mingled with his, and it sounded better to him than he would have imagined.

Rowan brought a lit stick in from the outside fire pit used it to get a small fire going inside. She wrapped a long fringed scarf around her shoulders before she went back out, returning with a big stock pot half full of water that Daryl jumped up to snatch out of her hands. She handed it over without argument and pointed where she wanted it. Daryl set it inside the fire pit but not directly in the flames. Rick watched as she took a plastic bag full of what looked like some kind of dried vegetables and dumped them into the pot. He guessed she was making some kind of tea and turned his attention back to his food.

Daryl had a better idea of what she might be cooking up in that pot. He waited until Rowan sat down with her food before he questioned her.

"Whatcha making?," he asked her quietly.

"What are you making?," Eric asked. He had heard Daryl's not so quiet whispering. And Rowan had told him not to bring any wine because she had something better she was going to make. She had been acting very cryptic about the whole thing and he felt like he was about to die of curiosity.

"Special tea," she said, answering them both at once.

"That's not more of those mushrooms is it?," Eric asked. He had smoked pot before and even tried a few other things, at parties. But nothing harder than that. Rowan had talked him into eating some mushrooms she found that she insisted would give him a spiritual experience. He woke up half a day later in the middle of her teepee clothed only his undershirt and one sock. Rowan insisted that nothing happened between them, but he had his suspicions. Mostly because when he found her, she was sleeping under a pile of blankets with her dogs, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. Aaron thought the whole story was hilarious of course, and liked to make jokes about it whenever they had mushroom flavored spaghetti sauce for dinner. "Better not have any of this, it might turn you straight."

"What is it," Daryl asked again. He knew she had told him the name of the plant down in the bunker, but he still wasn't sure what it was used for.

"I am going to vision quest tonight, anyone that wants to can join me," she said. Or anyone that is able, she thought. Most people were too afraid to leave their physical bodies. She knew Eric had the ability, he had done it once before. She was also willing to bet she could take Daryl with her, since they were so close. And who knew, one of these other people might surprise her and come along.

Some people were natural conduits, where Rowan grew up they would have figured all that out when they were young and then been taught how to control their gifts. But these people did not grow up in that type of environment. Most of them had never even tried to meditate before. It would be interesting to see what they could do. Even if she went alone, Rowan needed to talk to her spirit guide. What happened today at the cabin had not been a coincidence. Finding out that Daryl cared for her on a deeper level and then having her old group members show up out of nowhere. She needed to find out what it all meant and try to see what might be coming next. And what she could do to stop it.


	34. Chapter 34

Deanna and Reg were keeping an eye on her boys for her, but Jessie didn't want to leave them alone too long. The light was fading quick and she was grateful when Spencer offered to walk her back. He didn't think it would bother him to see Rowan with the man she liked. But he had also convinced himself that the only reason she would be with a man like Daryl would be to satisfy some sort of physical urge. In his mind, that man was sure to break her heart and after that happened, Spencer would be more than happy to pick up the pieces for her. Seeing them together had been harder than he anticipated.

When Rowan had come in carrying that pot of water with her sprained wrist and that man had jumped up to help her, it felt like someone punched Spencer right in the gut. It was then that he had to admit that the man Rowan liked was not the grunting gorilla he appeared to be. He seemed to have genuine concern for her well being. While Spencer knew he should be happy for his friend, he was having a hard time seeing past his own pain. When Jessie said she needed to leave, he jumped at the opportunity to make a gracious exit.

After she gathered up the dishes and put them into a big tub of water to soak, Olivia gave Rowan a hug and kiss on the cheek. Morgan heard the two women talking about making cheese together the next day and it made him smile. Cheesmaking held a nostalgic value for him and it was a skill he thought he would like to learn. Then Olivia and Eugene headed home to Olivia's house.

Rowan walked them out, giving Olivia another quick embrace. Eugene noticed Rowan was careful not to get too close to him, but she did give him a big smile when she said goodbye and goodnight. Once the couple was walking off, Rowan grabbed a strainer and went into her trailer to get the special bowl she only used for ceremonial purposes. Like many of the things she had, it was an odd item that someone in Alexandria had given her as a gift. This bowl was carved out of wood, and polished very smooth. Aaron had given it to her.

Holding onto her shall to keep it from blowing away, Rowan carried her items in the other hand and headed back into the teepee. People were chatting, or playing with the kittens. Her dogs had settled down and they were snuggled together near the spot she had been sitting in before she got up to help Olivia collect the dishes. Rowan put the strainer in the bowl and used two small towels to get the pot with the peyote in it out of the fire pit. She was pleased when she saw that the water had reduced down to about 1/4 of what she had originally poured into the pot.

As she dumped the liquid through the strainer and into the bowl Rowan noticed the conversations around her had come to an abrupt halt. She lifted the strainer out, shaking it a few times to get most of the liquid out. Then she set the strainer inside the pot and pushed it aside. Depending on how they were dried, the plants could used to make tea a few times before they lost their potency. As she worked, Rowan could feel the anticipation in the air, like an electric buzz. People were waiting for her to say something. Rowan took a deep breath. She was trying to think of the right way to explain what she was doing without sounding crazy to the people that had never heard of spirit guides or astral projection.

"I like to meditate," she said first, looking around to gage people's reactions to that. They looked mostly curious, except Eric, who looked like he thought she was a regular comedian. He had a big grin on his face. So far so good, she thought.

"Sometimes I find it's easier to meditate if I take something to relax me and help open my mind," she added. Now Eric was shaking with silent laughter, holding his sides with his arms around his middle. Rowan rolled her eyes at him.

"Running around outside naked was your idea," she reminded the man. Whether you remember it or not, she thought. Once he came to his senses Eric had been worried that something happened between them, but while high he had been far more interested in petting and smelling the tomato plants than he had been in touching her. She made sure to let Aaron know exactly what happened and didn't happen as soon as she had managed to catch him alone.

Her words brought on some laughter, especially from Aaron. Rowan wrinkled up her nose at the two rascals, trying to stay serious. She waited until they stopped laughing before she continued.

"I have plenty here for everyone," she said, tilting the mostly full bowl of tea, "And anyone that would like to can join me in my meditation." Carl had been watching the woman with a lot of interest. He had no idea what she was talking about, but it wasn't like they had cable out here.

"I'm in," the boy announced.

"Oh no you're not," his dad quickly informed him. Rick had no idea what sort of strange brew this woman was cooking up. He was considering having a taste himself, but he wasn't going to have his underage son drinking it. Carl crossed his arms with a huff, irritated that his dad was even here. These were his friends. And if his dad wasn't hanging around, he bet Daryl would have let him get a sip of whatever was in that bowl.

"Come on," Enid said, getting to her feet, "lets go read comics in my tent. That shit smells bad anyway." Carl threw his dad one more dirty look and then got up to help Enid collect her kittens. Rick didn't say anything but he was grateful to the girl for saving him and Carl from making a scene in front of these people.

"I'm sorry," Rowan told Rick once Carl was outside. She had not meant to start trouble or cause a family argument. Rick waved her off. If Carl wasn't fighting him on this, he would have found something else to fight him on. It was just the stage he was at. Rowan was not to blame. She smiled at him.

"Would you like to try?," she asked. Rowan had a funny feeling that if Rick was willing to have a sip, everyone else would too. Rick glanced at the bowl and cocked his head to the side. Then he shrugged. What the hell, he thought, you only live once. And the promise of being relaxed sounded very appealing. He could barely remember what it felt like to be anything but tense, angry and afraid.

"I've done guided meditation before," Michonne said. Rowan took that to mean she was willing to try. Morgan just gave her a nod. And she already knew Daryl was going to drink it if she did.

"You two have to be serious," she told Aaron and Eric, who were still smiling like a pair of cheshire cats. Aaron nodded. Forcing himself to stop grinning, he lifted up his hand and made a little gesture moving his finger across his chest. Cross my heart. He had missed whatever shenanigins had gone on the time she found those mushrooms and he didn't want to miss out again.

"Everyone get comfortable and make sure you are not too close to the fire," Rowan said. Daryl noticed a change in her tone of voice. She was speaking soft and in a lower pitch. The voice she was speaking in now, he had only heard her use when she was alone with him. He wriggled a moment in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling tighter than they had been before.

Picking up the bowl, Rowan dipped the tip of one pinky finger into the liquid to check the temperature. It was still hot, but not so hot that it couldn't be consumed. She walked around the fire, being very careful not to let any of the tea slosh out over the sides of the bowl. Keeping her one good hand under the bowl, she steadied it with the hand that was attached to her injured wrist and held it out for Rick to drink.

He was repelled by the smell of whatever was in the bowl, the little wisps of foul steam floating into his face made him wrinkle his nose up. Rowan held the bowl still, waiting for him to stop acting like a picky child and take a sip. He knew everyone was watching him, waiting to see what he would do. So he leaned forward and placed a hand on the edge of the bowl, tilting it and taking a very small experimental sip. He didn't understand how it was possible, but the stuff tasted even worse than it smelled. Rowan laughed at the face he was making and pushed the bowl closer so he could get another drink.

"Trust me," she said, "in about 20 minutes you won't care how bad it tastes." He nodded and took another drink, a larger one now that he was prepared for the bitter taste that seemed to cling to his tounge no matter how many times he swallowed. When Rowan felt he had enough, she pulled the bowl back and took a step to her side, holding it out for Michonne. Going around the small circle, she repeated this process until everyone had a drink except for her. There was still a fair amount of tea in the bowl, at least twice what she had given everyone else to drink. Rowan hesitated for a moment, and then tipped the bowl, drinking the entire contents left inside before her better judgement made her think twice.

The encounter with the men she knew had dragged up more painful memories for her than she wanted to admit. And she was eager for an escape from not only those, but from the fear of living that now seemed to be a part of her every waking moment. She sat down in the beanbag chair she was sharing with Daryl, leaning in to hug him tightly against her for just a moment. The intensity in her grasp made him feel worried for her. Something in the way she touched him felt like a goodbye.

"Everyone should take the hand of at least one other person," Rowan suggested, her voice still soft and throaty, "You will feel some stomach upset at first. When that wears off, you should start to feel the other effects." Daryl twined his fingers up with hers, lifting her hand to plant a gentle kiss on the darkest part of her bruises before placing her hand in his lap. Aaron and Eric quickly joined hands, like they were happy to have an excuse for touching each other in front of the rest of the group. And Rowan saw Michonne take one of Rick's hands without any further urging. That left Morgan without a partner, the lone wolf of the group, so Rowan waved him closer and held out her free hand for him to grasp.

Rowan had been to many guided group meditations, but she had never led one before. Her father had led many, and he had a very unique style that people always enjoyed. She had been with him the first time she spoke to her spirit guide. But Rowan found it was too painful to think of him. The proud caring man he was, and the hateful angry thing he became much later swirled together in her mind. So instead she thought of the cat man. When she had been about Carl's age, he had taken her and several other young people out into the woods for their first spirit quest. And over the years, she had meditated with him hundreds of times. He had been very gifted in the art of astral projection and if Rowan held tight to his hand, he could take her with him anywhere he went.

In the spirit realm, the cat man had not been old and grey and covered in small crinkly cat hairs. He had been as he saw himself, young and strong and devishly handsome. Instead of a white stringy mop, long golden blonde hair fell down over the rippling muscles of his bare chest. In the spirit realm he was as he had been in his prime, the type of man that could have any woman he chose in his arms within moments of meeting her.

He had flown Rowan's spirit form all the way to the Mayan Temples of the Yucatan. She had been scarely more than a girl but he had given her a kiss there on the top of the ruins, the giant tiger that was his spirit guide rubbing it's body against her bare legs as his arms went around her waist. When she woke, she had climbed into the old man's lap, looking to finish what he had woken inside her with his kiss, but he had let her know very kindly that his physical body was far too old and weak. He stroked her hair and suggested she find a boy her own age to fall in love with. Over the years, she had done plenty of kissing, but she never had a kiss that was as exciting or intense as that first one. Not until the night she showed up naked outside Daryl's house.

"Look into the fire," Rowan started. She knew most people already were watching the dancing flames, shifting around and trying to get comfortable with the mild stomach cramps that came with drinking the tea. All magic came at a price. And the price for this one was the bad taste and the sour stomach that came before the good feelings washed in. "Watch the fire and focus on your breathing. Keep it slow and even." Once she said that, she waited until her own stomach started to settle down. Then she spoke again, knowing that people were starting to relax and feel the more pleasant effects of the drug.

"Feel the ground under you, and let it take your weight." Rowan took a few moments and focused on her own breathing, feeling each muscle in her body start to relax. She could feel herself start to drift up and out of her physical body and she let her breath out, forcing herself to be patient and help guide these people first.

"Let your mind empty of the things that you don't need to hold onto. As you breath out, you see all the black clouds of negativity flow out like exhaust pipes on a car. When you breath in, only clean white air flows into you. Release everything that you don't need to hold onto. Let go of the things you cannot control. Those feelings flow out of you and float away like leaves, into the fire where they burn up like so many tiny pieces of paper."

Daryl held Rowan's hand between his two larger ones. Whatever she gave them to drink must have started working, because he swore he saw a blood red leaf float out of his mouth only to be engulfed in the flames of the dying fire. He had no idea at what point Rowan stopped talking, but when he turned, he could plainly see that her mouth was no longer moving. But he could still hear her words. _I am here. I have a right to be here as I am. I am enough. Everything is unfolding as it should._ She blinked, and it was like everything was moving in slow motion. He could see the tiny freckles on her eyelids and each one of her long ink black lashes. Then he felt the pull.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them he and Rowan were floating above their bodies near the top of the teepee. His body looked small and limp down below him, nothing but an empty shell. The urge to dive back inside his body where he belonged was strong. He felt petrified, and the fear came over him in waves that were the colors of a sunset. His mouth felt like he had sucked on a lemon. _Don't be afraid._ Rowan's voice in his head again. The sound of it soothed him, and he felt better when he saw she was still next to him holding his hand. _You can go back whenever you need to. I love you. Come with me._

 _ ******_ **I got the ideas for the guided meditation stuff off a few different websites, and added in some stuff of my own. Since there were a few lines that were pretty close to what I read on The Guided Meditation Site, I thought I should give them credit. ****


	35. Chapter 35

The firelit space inside the teepee was gone. But if he tried hard, Daryl could still hear and smell the small campfire that was dying near his feet somewhere far away from the meadow he was standing in now. The grass was bright green and damp with morning dew under his bare feet. He still held Rowan's hand in his, but she looked different from how she had in the tent. Her hair was twisted into two long thick braids that hung down on either side of her head. The bruises Pete had given her were gone, along with all the pain and worry that she often wore plainly on her face. She was dressed in the same soft suede vest, but with it she had on a long fringed skirt made from the same material.

 _You look different too._

She had not moved her lips, but he could hear her words in his mind just like she had spoken them aloud. He looked down at himself. His hands. All the scars and marks it had taken him half a lifetime to acquire were missing.

 _Your hair is shorter too. And you don't have any hair on your face._

Daryl reached up to feel his hair. It was shorter, more like the way he wore it before the turn. He smiled as he rubbed his freshly shaved face. He liked the way he looked, more like his normal self. But he liked the way Rowan looked even more. She was a least a good fifteen pounds heavier and dressed like some kind of indian princess. When he went to tell her, Daryl found his mouth only opened and closed, no words came out. The feeling panicked him a little.

 _I can hear you. Just think of what you want to say._

 _You look beautiful._

Rowan smiled and then she laughed. He didn't hear it as much as he felt it. Her laughter was like a tickle that started at his toes and climbed all the way up to the little hairs on the back of his neck. Whatever place they were in, he could not only feel his emotions, he could taste them as well. And her happiness tasted like cold whiskey over ice. Whiskey and honey. She must have heard what he was thinking because she laughed again.

Rowan turned her head away from him and Daryl followed her gaze. In front of them was the large black wolf he had seen so many times in his dreams. It had Rowan's green eyes and her crystal necklace around it's neck. Next to the wolf was the last person that Daryl was not expecting to see. His brother. Merle was himself, but not as Daryl remembered last seeing him. He was years younger, dressed in his military uniform like he had been the time he came to see Daryl after he finished basic training. Daryl had been in absolute awe of him, dressed up like he was something special. Back then Daryl thought Merle hung the moon. He could tell Rowan was able to see Merle just as clearly as Daryl could.

 _Is that your spirit guide? He's very handsome._

 _I'm not sure I like being able to read your mind._

Rowan tickled him with her laughter again.

 _He looks like you._

That made Daryl smile and he pulled Rowan close against his side and kissed her. The kiss felt different, but familiar at the same time. And she tasted like her happiness had tasted, only sweeter. For a moment, Daryl forgot about his brother and the large black wolf.

"I see you found yourself a pretty little squaw," Merle said. His words rang out clearly across the meadow. Daryl pulled away from Rowan, feeling irritated. He couldn't talk, but his brother got to run his big mouth. That did not seem fair.

 _You're my guardian angel?_

"Who the fuck were you expecting?"

 _I dunno. Someone a little more angelic._

Merle laughed at that. And his laughter was pure, unlike the mean spirited sort the man had been prone to in real life, laughing only when it was at someone else's expense. His laughter mingled with Rowan's inside Daryl's mind and he was distracted for a moment at the beauty of the noise and the way he could feel it and hear it at the same time. When he looked down, Rowan's hand was gone from his and she was standing a few feet away. Merle had her hand in his, lifting the back of her tattoed palm to his lips.

"Hope you don't mind sweetheart, got a few things to discuss with little brother here," he told her. Rowan nodded.

 _I don't mind at all._

She pulled her hand back from Merle's grasp and moved towards the giant wolf. It seemed to grow even larger when she touched it. Daryl watched as she swung one leg over it's back, riding it like one would ride a horse. She clung to the fur on it's back and smiled at him.

 _I love you._

Then in cloud of silver black smoke she was gone. Daryl charged forward, the grass under his feet warm in the spot that Rowan and the wolf had been sitting just a few moments before. He turned in a circle, looking for her and hoping she would reappear as quickly as she had vanished. Like when she hugged him in the tent, something about her voice felt like a goodbye.

"I like that one," Merle announced, "I bet she's a real wildcat in the sack."

 _Keep you fucking opinions about her to yourself and tell me what the fuck you want._

"Not a very polite way to talk to the person that's been watching over your sorry ass."Merle crossed his arms and gave Daryl a little smirk. How young he looked was distracting, his teeth straight and white and his dark curls cut close to the head in the military cut that he favored for the rest of his life. Daryl was not used to feeling like an old man next to his brother. And he had forgotten how strong Merle used to look, before the drugs took him. Merle was looking at him expectantly.

 _What do you want Merle?_

"What I want is to know what the hell you are doing playing around getting high in some tent when you should be out there kicking the shit out of the assholes that are looking to snatch up your woman." The question hit Daryl in the gut like a hard kick. He tasted his own anger, and it was more bitter than the tea he drank to get here. He felt like he was chewing on a mouthful of dirty sand.

 _What the hell kind of shit are you talking?_

"Those men. Evil of the worst fucking sort. And crazy too. They came because they heard the dog bark. They came looking for Rowan. If you don't stop them, they're going to take her. And you won't ever fucking see her again. Just like Beth." Daryl knew then that what Merle said was all true. He had known it in the back of his mind all along. From the moment he touched Rowan, holding her felt like holding onto a feather in the middle of a tornado. Nothing that was good in life came easy. He was going to have to fight if he wanted to keep her.

Merle reached out, touching Daryl on the shoulder with one hand. Daryl could taste his sadness. Like salt water from the ocean. But the melancholy mingled with the taste of his own emotions. And he was tasting something he had not felt in a long time. Not since Beth died and all that he had died inside him. Hope. And it tasted like the freshest coldest water. He closed his eyes and gulped down swallow after swallow.

When Daryl opened his eyes, he was back in the teepee. The fire was out and the hearth looked cold, like it had burnt out a long time ago. Morgan was leaning over him, holding the cup of cold water to his lips.

"Rowan?," Daryl asked. His throat felt dry despite the water he had just consumed. A look of concern flashed across Morgan's face as he glanced at the woman next to Daryl.

"She's not back yet."


	36. Chapter 36

The smoke was all around her. Inside it she could smell the scented oils her mother wore, behind her ears and on the insides of her wrists. Rowan only remembered being able to smell them when her mother hugged her close. Her mother's long silky hair mixing with hers, identical in every way except color.

When Rowan left the meadow, she had not been sure where she was going. Lost in the mist and smoke, she wished for her mother more than she had in a long time. Her thoughts carried her back to the last place she had seen the woman. Back to her home, holding tight to the coarse fur of the wolf that served as her spirit guide.

Astral projection could take you anywhere in the world, but it could not take Rowan where she wanted to go. She couldn't travel back in time. Back to when her home had been full of life and love. Rowan looked around the place, unafraid of the walkers that roamed around. They could only hurt her physical form. As a spirit, they were totally unaware of her presence.

The old rainbow hammock still hung, one end supported by a the leaning post that always looked like it was about to fall over and never did. The other end was attached to the tree that Rowan used to climb when she was a girl. The community house was still standing. Rowan could see the window to her mother's room on the lower level where her women's small living group stayed. If she squinted her eyes a little, she could still see them knitting together outside by the flower gardens, their skirts spread out on the grass. The sounds of children swimming and playing in the nearby pond drifted in over the sound of the music that was coming from an old beat up cd player.

Now the dead wandered over the place. Trampling the overgrown flower beds and polluting the air with their foul moans and hisses. One walker was wearing what remained of an old tyedyed shirt. It was tangled up in the only clothesline still left hanging. Rowan didn't recognize him, but he had a shaved head, which meant he was from the community house that had a lice outbreak right before the turn. At even the mention of the L word, people would shave their heads. This was bad if it came before yearly visitor time, since it made them all look like a bunch of crazy hare krishna cult members.

In her spirit form, Rowan could not cry, but she could taste her own sadness. In her mouth it was like so many raw onions mixed in with water from the ocean. She could not stand to stay here another minute. Coming here had been a terrible idea. And it was making her admit to herself something that she had been in denial about for far too long. She was never going to be able to go home again. Home was gone, and so were her people.

The abandoned look of the place was more than Rowan could bear. She wanted to be somewhere peaceful. Taking her wolf's head in her hands, she leaned down until their foreheads were touching. The smoke surrounded her again. She closed her eyes and when she opened them, she was high above her home. Her and her wolf were sitting side by side on a cloud, Rowan's bare feet dangling out into the open air.

"Why did you come to me?," the wolf asked. The wolf always spoke to her in a voice that sounded both strange and familiar at the same time. She never registered it on a concious level, but it was her father's and mother's voices combined.

 _I don't know what to do._

"You lie." Rowan turned to look at the wolf. She was not lying. She felt lost and alone. Scared.

 _But I really don't know what to do._

"You know." The wolf licked it's lips, it's muzzle suddenly wet with fresh blood that had not been there before. "You don't want to do what needs to be done."

 _I can't hurt anyone. I can't kill. Not even them._

"Then the man you love will die." In that moment, the cloud below them parted and Rowan could see herself kneeling over Daryl's lifeless form. Tears were in her eyes. A man stood next to her, his hand on her shoulder. He extended his hand down to her and she looked up at him before she took it. Rowan would know that man anywere, in any clothes, at any age. His black hair flowed back over his shoulders, the same color as hers. He spoke to her. _Time to come home now._

Rowan leaped up onto her feet, her mouth filling with the taste of blood as her anger filled the rest of her. She opened her mouth and screamed. The sound filled the air around her and when she looked again, the image in the cloud was gone. And so was her spirit guide. She was alone in the clouds, high above the earth. Down below her she could hear the silent cries of pain and fear coming from every direction. What was there down there for her. Nothing but more of the same. Or if the vision she had seen was true, worse things to come.

You fight or you die, she heard the words bouncing around in so many of their minds almost everyday. But she couldn't fight. Maybe it would be better to go now. To stay here in the quiet of the sleeping world and never return. Her mother was here somewhere, Rowan could feel her prescence on the other side of a diving wall she couldn't yet cross.

But she felt another presence too. This one was strong with need. And it was pulling her out of the void and back towards her body. Everything flew by her in a blur as she moved, faster than she ever had before. She could hear her name being called over and over again. _Rowan. Wake up. You have to wake up. ROWAN. Please you have to wake up._

"Rowan, wake up. I know you can hear me," Daryl said again. He had her under a deep pile of blankets, holding her cold still form close to him with Tank's heavy body warming her from the other side. Aaron and Eric were building up the fire, trying to get her warm. Morgan had his hands under the blankets, trying to use the friction of his hands to warm her ice cold feet. Eric had a strong pot of coffee going that he hoped he might be able to use to incease her slowing heart beat if Daryl could wake her up enough to drink it.

Rowan's eyes fluttered open. They quickly shut again, but Daryl could feel the difference in her body. Her fingers were wiggling and she no longer felt so much like dead weight. A soft moan issued from her lips. Eric rushed over and started smacking lightly at her cheeks, hollering in her face.

"Stop that," Daryl yelled back at him, "that ain't goin' to fucking help." Eric moved back about a half inch and stared at Rowan like he thinking about yelling at her again depsite what Daryl said.

"Go get the coffee," Morgan suggested, "put some cool water in it so it doesn't burn her mouth."

Rowan woke up, feeling colder than she had ever felt before. When she was about twelve, she had been walking across the frozen creek and the ice had broken. Thankfully, the creek had only been a foot deep, so only her feet had gone in. But that water had been the coldest thing she had ever felt. Now her entire body felt like it had been dipped in that creek. She could feel her hands start to tremble when she tried to move her fingers. A cup of something warm was held to her lips and she drank it down in gulps, feeling the warmth of the liquid flow down into her belly.

When the mug was empty, Eric pulled it back. Rowan was alert and looking at him, blinking her long eyelashes slowly like they were almost to heavy to lift. He leaned down, hugging her and kissing her cheeks, not caring if he was bumping into Daryl and the dog.

"What did you just feed me?," Rowan asked, her words coming out sounding slightly slurred.

"Coffee," Eric told her.

"It tasted terrible," she informed him. Aaron sat back from the fire laughing at her comment, his eyes full with tears of relief.

"I can make you some tea?," Eric offered. Rowan gave a little weak nod of her head. Then she turned her head to look up at Daryl, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile.

"Welcome back," he told her. Rowan was distracted by his face. The warm smile and the tears at the corners of his eyes. But she had come back with a purpose. One that she couldn't allow herself to forget.

"Is Morgan still here?," she asked. Daryl looked a little surprised, like he wondered why she would be asking for some guy she barely knew. But he gestured for the man to come closer anyway.

"Hi," Morgan said to her. Rowan could tell by the way he was looking at her that he knew more than he was going to say. He was probably afraid of sounding like he had gone crazy. She knew the feeling. Morgan had not gone spirit flying with her, but she could tell he had gone.

"You met your spirit guide," Rowan said. It was a declarative statement, not a question. He smiled at her, wondering if she knew she was his spirit guide. Or a woman that looked too much like her for it to be a coincidence. In his dreams, the woman had long black hair, but when he had seen her a few hours ago, she had stepped from the shadows to reveal that her hair was really a bright copper red. But she and Rowan still had the same face, even down to the freckles. And the same tattoos on the hands and feet. Finally Morgan nodded, indicating that he had met his guide.

"What did she tell you?," Rowan asked. There was no mockery in her face. Not even a trace of a smile. Morgan wasn't sure what the level of secrecy between a man and his spirit guide should be. But since the message involved Rowan, he decided it was right to tell her. Morgan licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as an old bone. He swallowed hard, knowing that along with Rowan, the other men in the teepee were waiting to hear his answer.

"She told me you would wake up. And when you did, you would be ready."


	37. Chapter 37

Carl thought they were going back to Enid's tent to read comics. That was what they usually did once the adults started entertaining themselves in adult ways. But when she took the two small kittens from his arms and thrust them inside the tent, zipping the flap closed behind them, he didn't ask questions.

Enid's hair hung down in two long braids, which meant Rowan had washed it and combed it for her. When she walked, the braids swung from side to side in time to her movements. From the way she had smiled at him when she was zipping up the tent, Carl had figured she was in the mood for a little mischeif. But he was still surprised when she strode up to the wall and started climbing.

Enid swung one leg over the top and looked down at Carl, who still had both feet on the ground. If he was coming, he better hurry up, before Rowan's loud mouth humping dogs came out and started barking. Tank had taken Enid in as part of his pack, and if he saw her climbing the wall, he would make a fuss so loud it would wake the dead. Literally.

"Chicken?," she asked the boy. He wasn't wearing his dad's hat. And he looked better without it, older and more grown up. More like a man and less like a little boy playing dress up. Carl wrinkled his eyebrows together at her rude suggestion. He might be a lot of things, but he wasn't a coward. Reaching for the first wrung, he started climbing up after Enid. He looked up just in time to see the top of her head disappear behind the wall.

"What are we doing out here anyway?," Carl asked once he landed on his feet on the other side of the wall. It felt exhilarating to be outside the walls, and even more so to be out here at night.

Enid didn't answer, which was typical of her when she was asked a direct question. But the moon was bright enough for him to see her smile. Instead of speaking she took her knife out, holding it in one hand and grabbed hold of Carl's with her other hand. Carl had bumped into Enid a few times, and gotten close to her when she was helping him with Judith's goat. But this was the first time she had deliberately made contact with him for any extended amount of time. Her hand felt warm in his and he held it tightly, twining his fingers in with hers.

Since Enid had her knife out, he got his out, feeling a bit awkward holding it in his non dominant hand since that one was holding onto Enid. But he had no desire to let her go. After pushing through a bush, they headed down a path togther, with Enid walking just slightly in front of Carl since she knew where they were going.

The rain that came in with the wind had not stopped completely, but it had trickled down to a soft drizzle that could barely be felt under the shelter of the trees. Carl tried to concentrate on listening for walkers, but it was hard with Enid so close to him. The warmth from her hand felt like it was creeping up his arm. Creeping, but in a good way. The heat ran down the side of him and came to rest in his gut, where it calmed the butterflies that were flapping around inside him. As they walked further into the woods, Carl could hear the sounds of crickets churping and what he guessed were frogs croaking. He knew from his time on the road that the sound of frogs meant there was water close by. Daryl had taught him that.

The path ended at a narrow section of beach. Carl could tell the spot was used often. The beach was well trampled, and even in the moonlight he could see a few large dogprints that had not been washed away by the earlier rain. Enid let go of his hand and tossed her knife down on the sand near the bushes. Then she started taking off her boots.

"What are you doing?," Carl asked. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he felt like a dunce. First off, when was he going to stop asking her stupid questions that she never bothered to answer. And secondly, it was obvious that she was getting undressed, so why was he going to say something to stop her. That was just plain retarded.

"Come on," Enid said, "Lets go swimming." She pulled her shirt off over her head and tossed it on top of a bush. Carl realized he was staring at the white bra she had on with his mouth wide open. So he turned his back to her and started unlacing his boots. He had never been undressed in front of a girl before. Well, not a girl he liked anyway. Changing clothes in front of Carol and Michonne didn't really count. The thought of seeing Enid naked, and of her seeing him the same way brought the butterflies back to life in his stomach. For a moment, he thought the ten pancakes and two gaint sausages he had shoveled into his face earlier were going to reappear. But the cool night air on his skin made him feel less dizzy. He took few deep breaths as he unbuttoned his shirt. That helped him feel calmer and more in control.

There were a few more rustling noises from next to him, followed by splashing noises from further away. Carl pushed his pants down in a hurry, debating if he should leave his boxers on. Walking back in wet underwear did not sound any more appealing than being naked in front of Enid. He turned to look at her small pile of clothes. He saw her bra and panties laying on top of her jeans and shirt. If she was brave enough to go skinny dipping, then he figured he was too.

The water was cold and Carl felt his skin prickle up with gooseflesh. The sandy bank dropped off without warning and Carl got a mouthful of the mucky water before he gained control of his limbs and started to swim. Enid was treading water a few feet away and he could hear her laughing. She had clearly been waiting for him to hit the end of that sandbar and go flailing into the lake. He cupped his hand and splashed some water at her, feeling satisfied when he heard her squeal.

"There's a floating dock that way," Enid told him, gesturing with one hand quickly before she dunked it back in the water to help keep herself afloat.

"Want to race?," Carl asked. The water was cold, and he had the urge to move fast and get his blood flowing. Enid did not answer, she just dove in the direction she had pointed in and started swimming like she was trying to get away from jaws. Carl swore before he took off after her, thinking about what a cheater she was. She had a head start, but he was a strong swimmer and got to the dock only seconds after she did.

"Beat you," she said, holding the dock with one hand while she panted like one of Rowan's dogs, trying to catch her breath.

"Only because you are a cheater," Carl informed her. He was smiling. Really he thought she was funny, cheating to win and then trying to rub it in. Enid splashed a bit of water in his direction and laughed. The hand she was holding onto the dock with moved in his direction. Then closer still, until her hand was touching his.

"Next time I will let you win," she said. Carl noticed the tone of her voice sounded funny, like she was telling him a secret. She let go of the dock and put her hands on his shoulders. To hold her weight, he instinctively reached up to put his other hand on the dock. Now their faces were only inches apart, with one of his hands on either side of her head. Under the water her naked legs bumped against his.

"Okay," Carl said. He had no idea what exactly what he was agreeing to. But he could see the tops of her breasts floating under the black water of the lake. He was having a hard time not staring at them. Despite the cold temperature of the water, he could feel the heat growing between his legs. And he was worried Enid might feel it too if she got too close.

In the moonlight, her dark eyes looked almost black. They both stayed still for a few minutes, their breathing slowing from the race and then speeding up again because of how close to each other they were. Carl felt her arms go around him, hands leading to forearms and then it was her elbows resting on his shoulders instead of her hands. But he had no idea what she was doing until her lips actually pressed against his.

The kiss was awkward at first, neither of them having any experience with kissing before. Enid and her cousin had practiced on stuffed animals once at a sleepover, but kissing Carl was a lot different from kissing a stuffed dog. She had seen Rowan and Daryl sucking face, and now she wished she had taken a better look at what they had been doing. Maybe she would have a better idea of what to do.

What she did know, was that the longer her mouth was touching his, the better it felt. The closer she pressed against him, the more he seemed to be pressing back. She felt the tip of his tounge against her lips and instead of being grossed out at the thought of being licked, she felt the urge to part her lips. Their tounges danced together for what seemed like a long time. The kiss made her feel almost tipsy, like she snuck too much of Rowan's apple moonshine. Then he was pulling his head back, not slow and easy, but yanking it back hard and whipping it to one side, his hair swinging against her cheek. Before she could ask him what was wrong, he shushed her up.

"I heard voices," Carl said. Enid nodded.

"Move slow and stay low, let's get around the side of the dock," she whispered, taking her arms from around his neck and grasping at the wooden planks with her own hands. One hand in front of the other, they moved together until they were around the corner and out of sight to anyone on the beach.

A cloud drifted by, letting the moonlight shine down brighter than before. Then Enid saw them, three men on the beach. One was holding up her bra, the white material easily visible. Another one was standing near the water's edge, looking out over the lake.

"Shit they found our clothes," Enid swore. Carl was wishing he had swum out here with his knife in his mouth. But he had been in worse jams than this one.

"Is there anywhere out here we can hide?," he asked Enid. She was breathing hard, thinking about how the men were touching her underclothes. The one holding her bra had lifted it to his face like he was smelling it. She was having a hard time concentrating. "Enid?"

"Yes," she sputtered, "there's a treehouse I have gone to with Rowan before. I'm not sure if I can find it in the dark. Can't we just run home?"

"If they follow us, we don't want to lead them back to Alexandria," Carl whispered. Enid had other ideas about that. Like letting these nasty bra sniffers follow her and Carl over the wall and then turning Tank loose on them. But Carl was right, they might have guns. And all the grown ups were high as a bunch of fucking kites right now, drinking whatever witches brew Rowan had cooked up for them. Stupid bunch of morons.

While Carl and Enid were debating on what to do, a few walkers wandered into the water on the east side of the lake and made their decision for them. The sound of the splashing drew the men in that direction, while Carl and Enid swam as fast as they could for the opposite shore. They ran into the woods like two tiny naked rabbits. Enid was mumbling to herself, trying to remember which was the treehouse was. When she hit that tree that was big enough to hide inside, she knew they were going the right way. The stomp and hiss of a walker scared her and she darted inside the tree, pulling Carl along with her.

It took the walker a few minutes to shuffle by, and the lack of movement combined with being cold wet and naked in the cool night air made Enid start to shiver. She felt Carl's arms go around her, nothing sexual about his embrace this time, just kindness in his touch as he tried to lend her a bit of his body heat.

When the sound of the shuffling footsteps could no longer be heard, Carl and Enid came out of their hidey hole and he followed Enid, who seemed more sure about where she was going now. They walked for about another fifteen minutes, which felt more like hours wandering naked in the dark woods. Then Enid stopped and looked up, a truimphant grin on her face.

"There's no clothes, but Rowan left an extra picnic blanket up there and I think maybe a few towels she uses for the dogs." Carl nodded, thinking about how welcome cuddling up inside a stinky dog towel sounded. It almost made him laugh. He followed Enid up the ladder and they pulled it up inside the treehouse behind them. The place was a little rickety, but it was better than nothing.

Enid laid the dog towels on the floor to keep them from getting splinters in undesirable places from the uneven wooden planks. She felt more tired than she had in a long time. Tired and cold and scared. Suddenly she was grateful for the walls around Alexandria in a way that she had not been before. The walls and her warm bed, complete with thick snuggly blankets that always smelled like Rowan since the woman used the same soap to wash her hair that she used to wash everything else.

Moving carefully so that she wouldn't push to hard against the towels and get stuck with a shard of wood, Enid lay down on the floor of the treehouse. Carl lay down next to her and covered them both with a blanket. He cuddled close to her, and like she had in the tree, she found herself welcoming the heat of his skin on hers. They both lay shivering under the ratty quilt until they finally warmed up enough to fall asleep.

As she was drifting off, Enid thought about how confidently Carl held her when he knew she was cold compared to how awkward he was in the lake when they were kissing. Kissing was something he could learn, but kindness and compassion were things people either had or they didn't have. For the first time since her parents died, wrapped Carl's boyish arms, Enid finally started to let herself feel again.


	38. Chapter 38

**** I hit 100 reviews today, so I am putting up an extra chapter. Thank you so much to everyone that took the time to leave a review. Just so there is no confusion I thought I should explain before I get to that part of the story that the wolves are still going to be the wolves from the show, but I am going to be changing up the physical description of them a little to fit the story, since in my version they are all of native american descent. ****

Enid woke up, feeling warm and toasty all over her body. Except for her feet, which were ice cold. She bent her legs, pulling her feet under the quilt and snuggling closer to the boy next to her. Feeling his body there, his bare skin touching hers, she rubbed at her face. What happened the night before felt like a dream. But since she was still naked in a treehouse, it must have been real. Carl was snuggled in behind her, his knees tucked in behind hers and something that felt a little harder then the rest of his pressing into the curve of her behind. That is just something that happens to boys when they sleep, she thought, doesn't mean it's because of you.

From the amount of light shining down through the trees, Enid guessed it was still early in the morning. She had become accustomed to getting up with Rowan to take care of the animals. And Rowan got up earlier than shit. The only thing that Enid liked about having Daryl around was that Rowan seemed to sleep in a little later than she normally did when he was in her bed.

"Carl," Enid said as quietly as she could in case anyone or anything was close enough to hear her. She turned on her back and elbowed him in the ribs. His whole body jumped and he woke startled and snorting.

"Did they find us," he hissed, scrambling to his feet before he remembered he was naked. Looking down at himself, he covered his private area with his hands, embarrassed that Enid had already gotten a good look at him. He was cold, his arm was sore from where Enid had been lying on it, and he had to pee. Badly. The urge to relieve himself won out over modesty and after he peeked over the side of the tree house to check and make sure no one was around. Then he turned his back to the girl under the quilt and pissed over the side.

"Must be nice to be a boy," Enid remarked. She had to pee too, but she wasn't equipt to do it in the same way that Carl was. She was going tohave to climb down and find a place to squat. Like she was a dog. Getting to her feet, Enid wrapped the quilt around her, tucking it in and doubling it over to try and keep it from falling down when she climbed down the ladder. She handed Carl one of the towels they had been lying on and he wrapped it around his waist in a similar fashion.

"Isn't home the other way?," Carl asked her when she started off into the bushes.

"Yeah," she said, "but you're not the only one that needed to pee." Carl wasn't sure if he should stay put or follow her. He didn't want to seem like a pervert, but he didn't want Enid to get to far away from him when she was naked and without a weapon. While she squatted down behind a bush, he spotted a few good sized rocks and moved away from her to pick them up in case they ran into any walkers on the way back to Alexandria.

He could hear Enid peeing, which was making him laugh a little for some stupid reason. But he could hear another noise too. One that he couldn't place right away. It sounded like a low roar. And then some soft thumping sounds, like something heavy falling from high up and flopping on the ground. He pushed through the trees, heading for the sound. The woods opened up and from his high vantage point, he could now see exactly what was making the strange sounds.

There was a herd of walkers. The biggest herd he had ever seen. So many that Carl could not even begin to count them all. If he had to guess he would say there had to be thousands. Someone had set up a blockade of semi-trucks, maybe to protect themselves. But they had not considered that walkers might fall down on them from the cliffs above. The impenetrable barrier that was meant to keep things out had also kept them in. The noise had likely drawn more walkers from the cliffs above, and then that noise had drawn even more. Even as Carl watched, a walker shambled up to the edge of the cliff and went over the edge. It sailed down and was swallowed by the giant teeming mass of moving bodies.

Carl heard Enid's quiet approach. She walked quietly, but not silently. The outside of her arm brushed against his and then she had his hand in hers. He gripped her hand tightly, both of them staring down at the herd with their mouths slightly open.

"I think we better go back now," Carl said. He looked to Enid for any objections, but she only nodded. Her normal blank stare was replaced with a look of fear. She had taken her still damp braids out after she peed and her hair fell down around her face in soft rumpled waves. Before she could turn to lead him back, he slipped one arm around her waist and hugged her against his chest. She went stiff at first, mostly because she had not expected him to touch her, but then she relaxed and hugged him back.

At the gates, Eugene was arguing with a black man that had his hair done up in braids. Enid ignored them completely and walked around them, heading through the partly open gate. Both men stopped talking and stared at her. Carl fought the urge to smile and followed behind the girl. Eugene started stuttering and stammering, trying to figure out something to say to the two teenagers. They were basically naked, clothed only in a towel and an old ratty quilt. And he guessed that they had been outside the walls all night. He wondered if Rick had any idea of what his son had been up to.

"Enid?," the black man in the braids called out, "what in the hell?" Enid did not stop walking, so Carl didn't stop either. She held her middle finger up above her head, gesturing to let Heath know he ought to mind his own fucking business. He would tattle on her to Rowan later, but all Rowan would do was lecture her. And Enid was a master at tuning people out when she didn't want to hear what they had to say.

Enid walked until she was sure that the people by the gate were out of earshot. Then she looked at Carl.

"After we get dressed, I think we better tell your dad and Deanna what we saw," Enid said. What she meant was after they got dressed, Carl better tell his dad and Deanna what they saw. Enid had no intention on letting them interrogate her. When they got to Carl's house, Enid paused just long enough to smile at him before she continued on, heading back to Rowan's camp.

The dogs were humping again, and not being very quiet about it either. Daryl was carrying a bucket of water towards the goat's area. He looked Enid up and down, raising one eyebrow. For a second she thought he was going to ask her where she had been and why she was wearing only an old quilt, but he just ignored her unusual appearance and continued on his way. Rowan was over by the gardens with the tarot card guy. They were doing some sort of yoga, but with broomsticks in their hands. What they were doing looked odd, but then again, Rowan did a lot of weird crap all the time. Enid was used to her.

At first, Enid headed for her tent, but then she remembered her extra clothes were in Rowan's trailer. Since she assumed no one was inside, Enid flung the trailer door open. Pulling up the bottom of the quilt up to keep from tripping on it, she headed up the steps and went inside. First things first, she was starving. Twisting a jar open, she stuck the end of a piece of jerky in her mouth, letting it soften up a little before she bit into it. The stuff was really supposed to be treats for the dogs, but she and Rowan ate it too sometimes. Enid had no idea anyone was in the bed until she heard a soft groan. Turning so quick she almost dropped the jar of dried meat, Enid backed up until her back hit the door frame. Stupid apocolypse, she thought. She hated that she was so jumpy now, almost as bad as Rowan. There was no reason for her to get so scared of two sleeping people.

Eric and Aaron had been over the night before, so she guessed at first that the two lumps under the covers were them. But when she moved closer, setting the jar of jerky back where she got it from, she saw a foot sticking out from under the blankets that was much to dark in complexion to belong to either man. Enid thought about leaving, but she really needed to get some clothes unless she wanted to go naked under this quilt all day.

She crept closer to the bed. Enid and Rowan wore about the same size. Rowan was a little thinner, but she wore her clothes loose, so they fit Enid just right. On top of the pile, there was a black dress that Enid had borrowed before. She would rather have pants, but she didn't really want to spend time digging through the messy pile Rowan kept her things in while there were two people trying to sleep nearby. In her tent, Enid had an extra bra and some clean underwear, so the dress was all she needed.

"What time is it," a soft voice drifted out from under the covers followed by the moan of someone else that sounded like they had a wicked headache. Enid meant to rush out, but she was also curious to see who was under the blankets. Creeping towards the foot of the bed, Enid grasped the heavy blankets and pulled them down just enough to reveal the faces of the people in the bed. She had to fight to keep from laughing.

Carl had tried to hide it, but he had been afraid to go home and face his dad. And the man wasn't even there, he was in Rowan's bed with some woman that Enid was pretty sure he had not had any sort of romantic relationship with before last night. The guy looked pretty terrible too. His hair was a mass of wild curls sticking out all over the place, and there was a feather stuck to the side of his face.

"What time is it," Michonne asked again, her voice more clear this time.

"Not as early as it feels," Enid told the woman. Michonne tried to sit up, then put her hand to her head and groaned before flopping back down on the pillows. Enid felt some pity for her. She had woken up feeling terrible a few times after having too much to drink or smoke the night before. "I can see if Rowan will make you some tea," Enid offered.

"Thank you," Michonne croaked, pulling the blankets back up so she was hidden under them again. She heard the door slap shut as Enid headed back down the stairs. The sound made her feel like someone was hitting the inside of her head repeatedly with a hammer. She took stock of her surroudings, trying to think back to the last thing she remembered. They had been in that big teepee, her stomach had been hurting from whatever Rowan gave her to drink. Rick's hand had been in hers, and she had been thinking about how they had not been seeing eye to eye on anything lately. They used to be on the same side, but since Aaron brought them here to Alexandria, she felt like every conversation they had turned into an argument.

Michonne's stomach stopped hurting, and she started to feel better and better. While everyone else in the place fell asleep or stared at their hands for hours, she and Rick had a long conversation that seemed like it went on for hours. And for the life of her, Michonne could not remember what in the hell they had been talking about.

She lifted up the blankets and took a quick peek underneath. She was naked and Rick was clothed only in his socks. The rush of cold air from the blankets being lifted made him moan again. He shifted around, rubbing at his head before rolling onto his side facing her. His eyes were still shut and his hair was sticking out in fluffy clumps of curls. Michonne pulled the blankets back over them and rubbed at her own head. She still had no idea what she and Rick had talked about, but the rest of the night was coming back to her in small sections that were making her cheeks feel hot.

The door to the trailer swung open and Michonne heard someone come in. The footsteps were lighter than Enid's so she guessed it was Rowan. The woman came close, standing right next to the side of the bed Michonne was lying on. The clink of a mug being set on the table next to the bed could be heard, and then the smell of whatever was in the mug hit her. Michonne's headache started to ease even before she took her first sip of the hot liquid.

"Careful," Rowan cautioned as the woman groped for the mug, "it's still hot." Rowan moved away and headed around to the other side of the bed, setting a second mug down for Rick. Then she leaned over the man, rubbing at his back to try and wake him as gently as she could. Michonne had a sudden flash of herself leaning over her small son, rubbing at his back in the same way to wake him so she could take him to daycare.

"I think I found most of your clothes," Rowan told the woman while she was coaxing Rick to wake up. "They are on the table in the other room, but some of them were outside in the rain. Do you want to borrow something of mine?" Michonne nodded gratefully, taking another long drink of tea. She was going to need to get the recipe for whatever was in it, it was getting rid of her hangover faster than asprin and coffee.

"Sorry," Rowan mumbled, shaking Rick's still sleeping form with a little more force. She hated to wake someone that was sleeping so soundly, but after what Enid just told her, she felt it was important for him to get up and deal with the situation as quickly as possible. Michonne could see how uncomfortable the other woman was, trying to wake Rick, and flinching back everytime he moved. Something must be going on that Rowan felt like Rick needed to be up and dealing with or Michonne doubted the woman would be trying to wake him.

"I can get him up," Michonne offered. Rowan gave her a grateful smile and quickly backed away from the man. She turned, digging through the large pile of clothes that was heaped in an easy chair. Pulling out a few things that she thought might fit Michonne, she set them on the foot of the bed and made her exit.

Once the other woman was gone, Michonne thrust her mug near Rick's face. Like she thought, the smell of it started to make his headache ease up and soon he had his eyes open trying to figure out where the hell he was. Michonne pointed to the mug on the other side of the bed and he took it, drinking the hot liquid in big gulps.

"Where are we?," he asked, looking around the small room.

"In Rowan's trailer," Michonne told him. She set her empty mug down and shoved off the covers, standing up and grabbing for the clothes that Rowan left for her. Seeing her naked body was a shock, and Rick rubbed at his head, trying to remember what in the hell he had been up to.

"Did we..." he started to ask, searching for the right words and coming up empty.

"Yeah," Michonne told him, "we did." He stuttered and stammered for a moment, not sure what to say to the woman. "We can worry about that later," Michonne suggested. "Right now I think you better get up. Rowan was just in here and she was acting like something was wrong."


	39. Chapter 39

Daryl was thinking about going into the trailer and waking Rick up himself if the man didn't come out soon. If what Enid told Rowan was true, then there was a giant fucking walker problem in their backyard that need to be dealt with immediately. Before he could head inside Rowan's trailer, a truck with a smaller travel pod on the back pulled up near the fire pit and an unfamiliar man got out.

As soon as she spotted the man, Rowan dashed over and hugged him. Since she never allowed strangers into her personal space, Daryl knew this man must be someone that she was friends with. She seemed very excited to see him. Daryl felt a hard lump of jealousy rise up, catching in his throat. The man hugged Rowan back and then he walked around and opened up the small pod trailer he was pulling behind his truck. While she danced around him, he started unloading bags and bags of dog food. Rowan was practically jumping up and down in her excitement, which had all clearly been because she knew the man was bringing food for her dogs, and not because she had any special feelings for him. Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling a little silly for getting jealous in the first place.

"Damn Roe," the man exclaimed, setting down a bag of the food and taking hold of her by the chin. He held her face still, looking at the bruises on the side of it. Her face looked like someone had given her at least one hard smack, and he could also see that one of her wrists was wrapped up in an ace bandage. He took another look at her face before he cast a suspicious glance at the unfamiliar man that was sulking around over by Rowan's campfire.

"What happened to your face?" Rowan followed Heath's gaze.

"Pete did it," she was quick to inform him. Heath's eyes opened wide before his face twisted up with anger. That was not what he had been expecting her to say, but it didn't really surprise him either. Pete was a shitty drunk, and he had been trying to stir up trouble for Rowan ever since she caught him tossing his wife around like a rag doll.

"That motherfucker," he announced, "I am going to kick his ass this time."

"Good luck with that," Daryl told the man, coming close and wrapping one hand around Rowan's waist, sticking the other one out for the man to grasp, "He's dead." He had not been sure about the man at first, but he liked what he had to offer on the subject of Pete.

"Tank went for him when he hit me," Rowan said, her voice getting more quiet as she looked at her big dog with a mixture of pride and concern on her face. Heath grabbed for Daryl's outstretched hand, looking with some interest at the familiar way the man had his other hand around Rowan's waist. The men each offered up their names and then dropped hands. Once the only slightly awkward intoduction was over, another unfamiliar man came over and introduced himself to Heath.

"Morgan," the man said. Heath nodded, not seeing any reason to repeat his name a second time. The fact that two strange men were hanging around Rowan and Enid's campsite made Heath worry a little for the girls. They were so far out away from the other houses, that if something did happen, no one would hear them if they needed to call for help. But neither Rowan nor Enid appeared to be being molested or bothered by the men. On the contrary, Rowan seemed quite comfortable to be in close contact with both of them. The white guy with the buff arms had put his hands on her several times and she had not been flinching away from him in her usual skittish way. Heath wondered exactly what her relationship with the man was and how long it had been going on.

Looking to break the awkward silence, Heath patted at his leg, calling to the dogs. They were busy sniffing at the large bags of food. Tank stopped and trotted over the the man, allowing him to pat his head.

"Good boy," the man told Tank, rubbing him behind the ears and scratching his the itchy places the dog presented to him. Usually Lily was the friendly one, Heath felt almost priviledged that Tank was allowing himself to be petted by anyone besides Rowan. Either he smelled like dog food, or Tank must be in an especially friendly mood today, he thought.

"There's enough in here to last them all winter," Rowan announced, practically climbing inside the pod to count the giant bags of food. If they supplemented the dogs with the deer Daryl promised he was going to hunt for her, the food might last even longer than that. Rowan was so happy she felt like she might bust. In the back of her mind, keeping the dogs fed was a constant worry. And since there was a good chance Lily was going to be pregnant soon, she had been worrying about it even more than usual. With her eyes full with tears of happiness and relief, Rowan threw her arms around Heath again. Daryl noticed the man hugged her back, but made no move to press his body against hers.

"Just because you are buttering me up," Heath reminded her, "Doesn't mean you don't have to pay for all this." Daryl scowled. But when she pulled away, he saw that Rowan was laughing at the man.

"Tomorrow?," she asked. Heath nodded.

"I'm going to take his braids out and redo them," Rowan explained to Daryl, who she noticed was scowling at her and Heath. She stepped away from the man. It was easy to forget these people took every type of physical contact to mean something sexual. There was nothing going on between her and Heath besides their friendship and the hairstyling in exchange for dog food arrangement they had. And she didn't want Daryl to think otherwise.

"You know Enid came in this morning from outside the wall with a boy, and neither of them had clothes on," Heath informed the woman, glancing over at the girl in question. He knew Rowan wasn't Enid's mother, but she was the closest thing the girl had to one. And someone ought to keep an eye on that girl. She had just stepped out of her tent, dressed in one of Rowan's flowy dresses. He already noticed when he had seen her come in that morning that Enid was looking a lot more womanly that the last time he had seen her. He worried about the girl. The last thing she needed was to get herself in a family way.

"I know," Rowan said, sounding a lot less concerned than Heath felt. He was thinking about bringing up his concerns with Deanna when he went to let her know how the run went. Not that Enid was going to listen to the leader of the town any more than she listened to anyone else, but someone ought to at least attempt to have a talk with the girl.

The screen door on the trailer swung open and Heath turned to see that two more people he didn't know were exiting the small structure. There was a white guy that looked about his age, but it was the other person that captured his attention. It felt like ages since he had seen such an attractive black woman. She was dressed in what looked like a pair of Rowan's long flowy pants and a tight fitting leather vest on top. There was a flush to her cheeks and she was smoothing her hair down in the spots where her dreads were sticking out. Her eyes met his and he held her gaze for a moment before looking away.


	40. Chapter 40

By the time everyone had gathered at Deanna's house for the meeting, it was late afternoon, almost dinner time for most people. Rumors spread like wildfire in the small community and most people had some idea by now what the meeting was about. Rowan and Daryl were sitting in the window seat together, with her leaning back against his chest. The window was open and Rowan's dogs were on the porch outside where she had left them since she thought they might make people nervous if she brought them inside Deanna's house. Lily was licking the screen of the window over and over with her long pink tounge. Tank was whining, getting louder and louder as more people filled the small room, crowding together and getting closer to the woman he considered it his job to protect.

The room was alive with the hum of so many quiet conversations going on at the same time. Unlike the last meeting, this time Rowan was not afraid. This time people were coming together to unite against a common enemy, to solve a problem. Some of them were scared or worried, and she could feel a general nervous energy. But they were not angry. And she had Daryl with her this time. Not that she couldn't fend for herself if she had to, but having him close by made her feel more secure.

Daryl felt Rowan's body tense when she saw Nicholas heading in her direction. It had been a habit of his and Aiden's to find a reason to poke fun at her expense. But the man only gave her a small nod of recognition before leaning against the bookcase to her right. She let her breath out in a sigh. Maybe it was the sobering experience of Aiden's death, or maybe it had been something else that she was unaware of, but she could see a change in the man. The false bravado that he usually reeked of was gone. Now he seemed content in his fear of the world.

"Sssshhh," Daryl told Tank through the screen. The dog was really starting to make a fuss, whining louder and pacing back and forth in front of the window. Daryl's urgings only served to make him whine louder. When Rick spoke out above the crowd to quiet down the people in the room so he could talk, it was more than the dog could take. First Tank jumped up, paws on the window frame, barking at full volume. He was so loud that the people sitting on the couch in front of the window seat nearly jumped out of their skin. Rowan snapped her fingers at the dog, trying to quiet him down and make him behave.

Rick started addressing the group and was interrupted for the second time. The black dog got down from the window frame and sat back on his haunches. Then he started howling like it was the end of his life. Rowan's face was turning red with embarrassment as she tried unsuccessfully to quiet the naughty dog. Tank was having none of it and continued on with his ear piercing racket. Some people looked annoyed while others were starting to laugh. Many people considered Rowan's control over her animals to be almost mystical, and having the dog behave in a very naughty manner and refuse to listen to her made her more like just a normal woman that happened to have a very large and protective pet.

Spencer had been around the Tank enough to know that the damn dog was not going to let up until he was allowed to come into the house. He carried on in the same way when Rowan shut him out of the bathroom when she was trying to take a shower. Heading for the front door, Spencer opened it and called the dogs inside. He knew people might object, but he figured it was his damn house and he would let any dog inside that he chose. Tank practically ran him over charging inside. He bolted for Rowan, sitting down directly in front of her. Lily ran in behind him, but she had much more important things to do besides act as a guard dog.

Lily ran around the room, bumping into people's legs and whacking into others with her giant tail. Finding the object of her affections, she gave Eric's crouch a healthy sniff. He jumped back, swearing under his breath and shoving the dog's head away from him. Her enthusiastic greeting over, Lily sat down in front of him and Aaron and gave a little yip. Aaron held up his empty hands, which was the signal he gave the dog that meant he didn't have anything for her. Not believing him, she barked again, her whole back end swishing from side to side with the wagging of her tail.

"Come on Lily," Reg said, heading for the kitchen to find her something to eat. The dog charged after him, knocking into a few more people on her way. Once she had her treat, Lily was happy to lay down in front of the man and naw quietly at the jerky he gave her.

Rick looked over at Tank, waiting to see if the dog was going to interrupt him again. Since the dog was sitting still as a statue, he figured it was safe to start talking again. Rowan listened to what he was saying, but he had a tendency to run on. Since she already knew about the walker herd and where they were and most of the plan to get rid of them, she quickly grew bored with his speech. Reaching inside the bag she brought, she pulled out her needles and a small knitting project she had been working on. She could feel Daryl's chest moving behind her and knew he must be holding in his laughter. Turning to look at his face, she gave him a look like she wanted to know what was so funny. With a small gesture and a shake of the head, he let her know he would tell her later.

The look on Rick's face was about the most priceless thing Daryl had ever seen. First, the man was doing his damnest not to look at Michonne. He kept glancing at her anyway, then looking away with the color rising in his cheeks. She was leaning against the wall as stoic as ever, but since Daryl knew her better then most, it was obvious to him that she had taken extra care with her appearance. Heath, the man that had brought Rowan the dog food earlier that morning, was standing close but not too close to the woman, smiling at her like he appreciated her looks even if Rick did not. It was going to be interesting to see how all this worked out.

Trying not to look at both Michonne and the man that kept smiling at her or Rowan, who for some odd reason had chosen that moment to work on a craft project, Rick continued on with his speech. Both times Rick started talking, the dogs had cut him off. And now a few people were acting bored, like what he was saying was of no concern to then at all. Rick was stumbling over his words, which he almost never did. Daryl could tell he was distracted. Rick was usually so intense, he had gotten used to everyone taking him serious and hanging on his every word. People didn't often break out knitting needles or ignore him to flirt when he was in the middle of telling them his battle plans. Daryl thought maybe this was good for the man. In his opinion, Rick needed to ease up a little before he gave himself a damn coronary.

All things considered, the meeting had been a sucess. People knew what was going on with the large herd of walkers, and Rick now had the volunteers he needed to help with his plan. Most people had returned home for dinner and a smaller group of people were meeting in the kitchen, looking at a map and trying to work out the particulars of where they were going to take the walker herd and how they were going to get them to go where they wanted them to go.

Reg was going to supervise the building of a wall that was going to be used in some way that Rowan didn't really understand. She was nervous about Daryl's role in the plan, but he had already assured her he would be fine. His motorcycle was fast and if anything went sideways, he could easily escape the mass of walkers just by hitting the gas. Rowan was going to help build the wall, but other than that she really had no role in the plan. She would be staying back at Alexandria with Deanna and a lot of other people to wait and hope for the best.

"What is this?," Morgan asked her quietly, lifting himself up onto the counter to sit next to her. He picked up the knitting project she had been working on.

"A chicken sweater," Rowan told him. He twisted the item around in his hands, looking at it curiously with a smile on his face.

"Chickens wear sweaters?"

"It's getting cold out and a few of them are molting," Rowan explained, taking the sweater back and stuffing it inside her bag. Then she went back to the jar of pickles she was working her way through, offering one to Morgan before lifting the jar to her lips and taking a swig of the sour brine. Morgan wrinkled up his nose at her.

"It's good," she insisted. Actually her favorite vinegar was apple cider, but she would settle for the pickle tasting sort in a pinch. When she offered him the jar to taste test for himself he shook his head, thinking Daryl better like the smell of pickles because the girl had ate so many she was going to reek of them for two days at least. The way she was digging in, Morgan was thinking about telling her to slow down before she made herself sick.

"Rowan!," Spencer lamented. He had seen what she was doing to what had been a full jar of pickles. Not only had she been drinking straight from the jar, she had also been fishing around in the bottom with her probably dirty and dog slobber covered fingers to get to the clove of garlic under the pickles. "I was going to eat those later."

"S'okay," she informed him, "I didn't backwash." Spencer groaned like he had not even considered that disgusting possibility before she mentioned it. Rowan gave him a teasing glance and lifted the jar to her lips once again, getting another sip which she swished around in her mouth before shooting it out between her two front teeth. A stream of pickle juice shot out, hitting Spencer directly in the face and dribbling down the front of his shirt. He pulled his shirt up, wiping his face off. Rowan was laughing at him like he was the funniest thing she had ever seen. That's what he got for acting like she was gross and had bad manners.

"Now you're going to get it," he warned her. Before he could grab for her, Rowan had skittered across the kitchen and into the doorway that led to the living room. Spencer grabbed at the jar of pickles and went after her, sloshing pickle juice out of the jar and all over several of the people that were leaning over the map at the table. Rowan ran into the living room, darting around to put several pieces of furniture between her and Spencer. Tank had been lying near the door in the kitchen but now he was up, barking like crazy.

"What in the hell?," Reg swore. One minute they had been talking about building a wall, and the next pickles were being launched across his living room and Rowan's dog's were both going batshit crazy. Tank was barking his head off. Lily, eager to get in on the excitement, had leaped up onto the couch and started ripping up Deanna's pillows. Fluff and stuffing was flying everywhere. Rowan was squealing and trying to dodge the pickles that Spencer was whipping across the room at her. Deanna stomped over to the doorway, trying to make a grab at her son so she could drag him back into the kitchen.

"Stop it right now," Deanna yelled at them, "you are acting like children." Not only were they being disruptive, they were making one hell of a damn mess in her house too. Since Deanna was grabbing him, Spencer was temporarily disabled. Rowan saw her opportunity. She grabbed up a pickle from the floor. It was covered in pillow fluff and dog hair. She hurled it as hard as she could at Spencer, but her aim was never very good. Instead of hitting Spencer in the chest, the pickle hit Deanna square between the eyes with a disgusting splat.

Since Aiden died, Spencer had not been able to really laugh at anything. Lately, even the act of forcing a smile made him feel exhausted. But seeing his mom, usually so composed and in control, step backwards into the kitchen with a filthy pickle sliding down her face to land with a squish on the kitchen floor put him over the edge. He felt like the laughter exploded out of him. Spencer slid down the doorway, gripping his sides with tears rolling down his face, laughing harder than he remembered laughing since before the end of the world.

Lily ran over, a scrap of fabric that had once been part of a throw pillow hanging from the side of her slobbery mouth. She jumped on Spencer, knocking him the rest of the way onto the ground where she intended to have her way with the man. He was laughing so hard he couldn't shove her off and instead curled up into the fetal position trying to cover his head while the dog humped him with a fury that could not be contained.

"Lily," Rowan said, "stop." She was laughing so hard, it took her three attempts before she got ahold of the dog's collar and started trying to drag her off Spencer before she hurt him. Slipping on a puddle of pickle juice, she lost her grip on Lily's collar and fell backwards on her ass.

Daryl had been taking care of some business in the bathroom when he heard a loud commotion and lots of barking coming from the next room. In a panic, he hurried out to find Lily humping Spencer while Rowan was scrambling around on the floor and everyone else was crowded in the kitchen doorway looking on.

"LILY!," he hollered at the dog. His loud and authorative tone got her attention and she stopped what she was doing. Daryl opened the front door and pointed out onto the porch. "Go lay down!." Lily leaped off the man she was molesting and headed for the open door. To Daryl's surprise, Tank ran out after her. The black dog only listened to Rowan. Once the dogs started up humping again, Daryl knew Tank had only gone outside because he felt like it, not because of Daryl's command. But either way the animals were outside, and Daryl slammed the door shut behind them. He walked over and hauled Rowan up off the floor. Her face was beet red and she was rubbing at her behind.

"Can I take a fuckin' shit in peace for once in my life," he commented loudly enough to make several of the people in the kitchen laugh. "What in the hell is goin' on?," he asked Rowan, who was still laughing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he was assaulted by the very unpleasant and very strong stink of vinegar and garlic. He stepped back, holding the woman at arms length before he added, "and why do ya reek like pickles?"


	41. Chapter 41

"Ya still reek," Daryl told her, shoving her away from him across the bed. Not only did she reek, her breath stunk like pickles and so did her hair.

"I took a bath," Rowan insisted, grabbing at his hands and making a weak attempt to hold them down so she could roll on top of him and kiss on him some more. Daryl wasn't what she would diligent about his personal hygiene. She never complained when he smelled like man stink. Actually she sort of liked his manly smell, but that was not the point. He smelled bad sometimes too, so in Rowan's opinion, he ought to quit his complaining and put out.

It was dark inside the trailer, but Daryl could tell from the tone in her voice that Rowan was smiling. And he knew what her idea of taking a bath meant. She dipped her hands in some water from the rain barrel and splashed a little more water on her face. What she needed was a hot shower, preferably one that involved scrubbing down with a lot of scented body wash.

"I will go take a swim in the lake tomorrow," she added in an attempt to placate him. Now she was on top of him, one leg on either side of his waist and her hands on his wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of his head. Rowan knew he was toying with her. Daryl outweighed her by at least 50 pounds and most of that was muscle. If he wanted to get away from her there was no way she would be able to stop him. But she was still having a good time pretending she was in charge for once.

He was getting a kick out of her suddenly more aggressive behavior. Morgan showed her how to swing some silly stick around, and now she was acting like she was drunk with power. He wiggled around and pushed up with his arms like he was really trying to get away from her. Then he thought about what she just said.

"That's not a real good idea right now," Daryl said, his tone more serious now. Those men were still out there, and they were obviously staying close to the small fishing lake. Probably using it as a water source and maybe eating fish from it as well. Rowan ignored his words and went for his mouth again. She missed and got his ear instead, nibbling at the tip of his earlobe.

"I'm serious," he told her. He didn't want her taking off out there with only the dogs and he really didn't want her running around naked when there might be a group of unsavory men around. Rowan hummed a little mmhhmm and started kissing down the cord of his neck to his chest. His naked body was tense under her and she could tell Daryl was not going to let the subject of her going to the lake alone until she assured him she was not going. Really she had not given the subject a lot of thought before mentioning it. There was no way she was going down to the lake and taking the chance of running into a lot of people that she would rather never see again.

"Aaron and Eric have a big tub at their house," she said. She spoke into the hard muscles of Daryl's chest as she ran the tip of her nose over them. Her hands moved down his forearms to his elbows and then back up to feel the hard muscles of his arms. "It might not be safe over there either," she mentioned, "maybe you better come with me. That tub is big enough for two people."

Now she could feel his stomach moving under her. He was laughing. "How do ya know two people can fit in that tub?," Daryl asked, "who were you bathin' up with?"

"Olivia," Rowan told him, "and Lily got in with us too." The thought of Lily leaping into the tub was sort of a hindrance on the lesbian bath fantasy he was working on. Now he just wanted to laugh more. But then Rowan flicked her tounge over one of his nipples and started kissing her way down past his ribcage. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillows. Her hair was bundled up on top of her head and the loose ends were tickling him as they lightly brushed against the skin of his chest. He liked the way her hair looked down, but since she only tied it up like that when she wanted to get down and dirty with him, just watching her twist her hair up on top of her head was enough to make his dick twitch in his pants.

She moved slowly over his stomach, kissing and nibbling gently at him. Her hands followed her mouth down, touching him like it felt as good to her as it did to him. One of her favorite parts of his body was the soft skin on the insides of his hip bones. Rowan knew that area was one of her sweet spots, and from the soft throaty moan that came out of Daryl when she kissed him there, she knew he must feel the same way.

The soft round of her cheek was brushing agaist him and he had to fight the urge to grab at her and put her mouth where he wanted it. Putting his hands up over his hed, Daryl grasped at the corners of the pillow and held them tight in his fists. He was usually so eager for her that she didn't often get the chance to explore his body. From the quiet little sighs and moans she was making as she ran her hands and mouth over him, he could tell Rowan was enjoying herself. He didn't want to ruin it for her. And he was curious so see what all she was going to do to him.

His skin tasted so good. Daryl never let her kiss and touch him for this long. She didn't know why he was letting her this time, but she figured she was going to take full advatage for as long as possible. Sliding down just a little further, she pushed his legs apart and lay between them, kissing and running the tip of her tounge over the skin on the insides of his thighs. The skin was so much softer there than the rough skin on his hands. Moving down, she found another good spot in the inside of the back of his knee.

Sitting up, she ran her hands up his thighs, feeling the hard muscles under the skin. When she got close to his hips, he bucked up under her hands and she decided maybe she had teased him enough. Leaning down, she grabbed the base of him with one hand and took the tip of him into her mouth. She felt him reaching down with his hands, trying to pull her up so he could roll her onto her back and have her, but she swatted his hands away from her.

Rowan wished she could take more of him into her mouth, but since she wasn't able to unhinge her jaws like a snake, just the tip few inches were going to have to do. She used her hands in time with the movements of her mouth, and those she moved in time with the thrusts of his hips. It didn't take long before she heard him mumbling obscentities between his hard breaths. She felt his body tense before she tasted it. No matter how in love with Daryl she was, it didn't make his emissions taste any better. Since there was no good place to spit it out, she thought the best way to get rid of it was to swallow it as fast as possible, which she did.

Climbing up the bed, Rowan flopped down on Daryl's pillow with him and let him hold her close. She was slightly uncomfortable with need, the heat pounding between her legs. But she knew there was a good chance he would be ready again soon if she let him relax for a few minutes. She knew a lot of men back in her community drank yohimbe tea to make themselves more virile, but when she asked Daryl if he drank it he just laughed and kissed her. _Don't need no tea I kint even say the name of to get a hard on when you're around._

"Liked that," he mumbled into the back of her neck, slipping and arm around her waist and pulling her closer. Slipping his hand between her legs he rubbed her until he felt her body convulse against his. Then he pulled the warm blankets up over them both and shifted around trying to get as comfortable as possible while still being as close to Rowan as possible. She was flopped over face down on her pillow like a rag doll. Whenever she came, she had an amusing habit of going completely limp for at least ten minutes afterwards. After the ten minutes she would be in one of two conditions. The first was fast alseep and snoring, and the second was all over him looking for more of what he had already dished out. Tonight he was betting she was going to fall asleep. The day had been a long one, and they had all done a lot of walking when they went with Carl when he took Rick and Deanna out to see the herd of walkers.

"Still awake," Daryl asked, rubbing his hand across her lower back under the blankets.

"Yup," Rowan said. She was awake, for now, but her eyelids were getting heavy and her dreams were calling to her.

"Got something I want to tell you about Rick's plan," he said. Daryl had been thinking hard on this, since he agreed to be the one leading the walker herd. Rowan rubbed at her face and forced herself to roll over. Daryl's voice had a note of concern to it.

"I'm awake," she said, "what's wrong?"

"When we do this, I can't be worrying 'bout ya the whole time," he said, "I want ya to take the dogs and go to that bunker we found until I come an' git ya." Rowan nodded her head, then realized he couldn't see her in the dark.

"Okay," she said. "I am going to take Enid with me." Daryl knew that was not a question. Rowan was not going anywhere without the girl. And he had a feeling Enid wasn't going anywhere without Carl. Which was going to be a problem. He scratched at the hair in his chin, thinking about what to do.

"I'll talk to Rick," he said, "maybe ya should take Carl and the baby with ya too." What he said came off like more of a question. He wasn't sure if Rowan would want to be responsible for two kids and a baby that she barely knew. But then he felt her press her lips to his, soft and gentle at first and then more passionate. Guess he had been wrong about her wanting to go right to sleep. Her arms went around him and then she was hugging him tight in her arms, like he might float away at any moment.

"How did you get so sweet?," she asked him, blinking back the water that was filling her eyes. That baby wasn't even Daryl's, but he was thinking about her safety. After Rowan's horrifying experiences out on the road, Daryl's concern for the child touched her in a way that she would be hard pressed to explain. Like when he had taken her out to that cabin, she felt more happy than she could remember being in such a long time. He was a good man, but still strong enough to face this world as it was now. She knew she was very lucky to find him, which was a strange thought for Rowan to have since she didn't believe in luck. She only believed in destiny.


	42. Chapter 42

With so many people helping, the small wall was going up faster than expected. Reg was digging away with Rowan while her dogs attempted to help. The two animals had been having a grand time, digging away at the soft dirt and patrolling the surrounding area, keeping the group safe from squirrels and walkers alike. Tank was covered in so much loose dirt, he looked like he was almost the same color as Lily.

From the way Rowan's face lit up in a beautiful smile, Reg did not have to look behind him to know that Daryl must be walking by them with the wheelbarrow again. Her smile was contagious and Reg found himself smiling back at her. He had not been outside the wall in a long time, longer than he really wanted to admit. Being outside their safe little shell of a world felt both scary and exhilarating at the same time. The first walker that had come charging out of the woods at him had been a sobering experience. But Rowan's dogs had taken the thing down before it even had a chance to think about grabbing anyone. She had danced over, her skirt swishing and her long braids swinging from side to side, and gave the monster her apologies before she bashed it's head with the shovel she was using. Then she had calmly walked away like killing un undead cannibal monster was nothing out of the ordinary for her.

"How many you think you have killed?," Reg asked the woman. It was easy to forget how long she had been out there in the beyond before she came to feel like a part of his family. Seeing her make short work of that walker reminded him that she was still a little more wild at heart than he liked to think.

"Dunno," Rowan said. She had picked the expression up from Daryl, who had a habit of grunting through questions he didn't feel much like answering. "Never counted," she added. Reg nodded. He could tell his line of questioning was making her uncomfortable and he decided to drop it.

Tank ran over and plopped down in the dirt pile next to Rowan. She could tell by the way he was breathing that he was hot and thirsty. Snapping her fingers to get him to follow her, Rowan headed for one of the trucks. She found a dish that was about the right size and filled it with water from the large canister on the back of the truck. Both dogs eagerly lapped up all the water in the dish so Rowan filled it for them a second time.

"We brought that water out here for people to drink."

The voice came from behind Rowan. She turned to face the person that was speaking to her in a tone that clearly indicated the person thought she was a special kind of stupid. Carol was standing behind her with a tray of empty cups that she was preparing to fill. The woman had a very false looking smile on her face that Rowan did not appreciate one bit. She didn't know what the woman's problem was with her, or why she was always walking around acting like such a big fat phony, but when she started messing with Rowan's dogs, the woman had crossed the line.

"Dogs get thirsty too," Rowan informed her, mocking the disgusting sugary tone the woman had used with her and offering her a extra big fake smile. See how you like a taste of your own medicine, Rowan thought. She had faced up to bigger and badder people than Carol and Rowan wanted to make sure the woman knew she wasn't going to be able to push her around.

"Well maybe _you_ should have brought some water for them then," Carol suggested to her. Rowan narrowed her eyes at the woman. It was on the tip of Rowan's tounge to say something very nasty to her. They both knew this wasn't about her dogs. This was about Daryl. But Rowan reminded herself that hateful talk was the way of these people, not her way. In fact, she had already been more nasty to the woman than she was proud of. Rowan would still stand up for herself, but she refused to let this woman bring her down to her level again. She took a deep breath and gave the woman a piece of advice instead of an insult. Rowan knew it was a quote from a book, but she couldn't remember which one at the moment. The quote had crossed her before, during few dealings she had with this particular woman.

"No man for any considerable period can wear one face to himself and another to the multiude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true," she told the woman. Rowan saw it then, if only just for a moment. The real Carol. Hard and tough the way life made her. A woman that survived everything and everyone, even her own child. Now that was someone Rowan would like to get to know. But then the moment passed and Carol put her eerie smile mask back on.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Carol told her in an overly friendly voice. The big fake smile was plastered across her face again, and she was looking around to see who might be close enough to hear their conversation.

"I think you do." There was no trace of sarcasm to Rowan's voice now. She straightened up her back, making herself look taller. When she looked at Carol, the woman had the same feeling that she had heard other people mention in regards to Rowan. The feeling that the younger woman could see right through her. Rowan said what she had to say, so she turned back to her dogs, patting Tank and telling him what a good job he was doing watching out for the walkers, leaving Carol to fill her water cups in peace.

Once Carol was gone, Rowan relaxed and got one more helping of water for her dogs. She saw Morgan coming around from the front of the truck, where he had been listening in on the odd conversation between Rowan and Carol. He had been watching Carol himself and thinking something along the same lines as Rowan. The woman was so observant, her eyes were always scanning everyone. But she was putting on a weird act, like she was some sort of helpless imbecile.

"Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlett Letter," Morgan said, making Rowan smile. As soon as he said it, she knew he was right. That had been a rather horrible little book, about a whole village of strange people that hated sex and babies. Rowan had read it years ago, as part of a list that one of the elders made for her, and only that one quote had really stuck in her mind. "My wife was a high school english teacher," Morgan explained. He had heard the quote many times before, but never in the middle of an argument. They stood a moment in silence before Morgan nodded towards Carol and asked, "Don't like her?"

"I don't know her," Rowan said. A long strand of her hair had some loose from her braids and she brushed it back and away from her face. "I'm not sure anyone really knows her." Morgan reached over and gave the woman a quick and gentle squeeze on her shoulder. Rowan smiled at him, looking at the aura around him. Today it was purple with at tiny but of blue and white around the edges. She thought maybe the blue was because he was thinking about his wife.

"I bet your wife was very beautiful," she said. Morgan nodded, and Rowan could tell by the look on his face that he was picturing the woman in his mind. Before she could ask him anything else, Rick approached them.

"Keep your dogs here this time," he said. Rowan looked around, trying to figure out what in the world the man was talking about. Then she saw them, three walkers were shuffling towards a small crowd of people. People from Alexandria. People that didn't get out much. Tank looked up from his water and started to growl. Like Rick said, Rowan grabbed Tank's collar and kept him by her side. But she was scared for the people. Reg was over there and she didn't want anything to happen to him.

"Use your shovels," Rick called out to the small crowd. Morgan and Michonne were edging in, and Daryl was circling around with his bow up. But Rick was telling them to wait. Rowan understood his frustration. Killing three walkers was something these people should be able to do. But as she watched Reg, backing away with his shovel up, she saw his hands were shaking. And then his aura disappeared.

Rowan did not hesitate, she let go of Tank and gave him the command to attack. He needed no further urging and the dog ran faster than one would imagine an animal that size could move. Setting his sights on the walker closest to Reg, the dog lept at it, knocking it to the ground and pinning it down under his heavy weight. Morgan ran in, hitting at the second one with his stick. Daryl fired his bow, taking out the third one while Michonne used her sword to kill the brain of the one Tank had on the ground.

Reg felt his life flash before his eyes right before the big dog came barrelling in his direction. And then Rowan was rushing into his arms, hugging him tight around the waist. She pulled back, looking up at him to be sure his life force was back around his head. She saw it there, tinged with a little more red than normal because he was afraid, but he was going to live. Rowan's eyes filled with tears and she hugged him again.

"You should have let them do it," Rick called over. Rowan let go of Reg and turned to look at Rick, her dark eyebrows knitted together, wrinkling up the middle of her forehead. Rick felt a little shiver crawl up his spine. He had not understood it before, but he now knew why so many people in town were scared of her.

"You were going to get Reg killed," Rowan told him. She sounded so sure when she said it that for a moment, even Rick was convinced. Reg put his arm around Rowan's shoulders. He did not need her starting a fight over his safety. He smiled at Rick.

"Maybe we ought to have the combat training first, then you can turn the walkers loose on us," he suggested to the man. Reg knew everyone here was watching. A lot of his people did not trust Rick, they thought he was trying to get them killed so he could take their town from them. But Reg did not share that opinion, and he wanted to make certain that everyone knew it. So he let go of Rowan and walked towards Rick with his hand out. Rick took his hand, giving it a firm shake before letting go. When Reg walked away, heading back to his work, Rick saw Michonne smiling at him.


	43. Chapter 43

The wall was up. The dry run of Rick's plan was tomorrow. Today was a day to rest or take care of any personal business that one might have. And Daryl had some business that needed to be taken care of. When he told Rowan he was going hunting, she had given him a nod and a kiss and a funny look that he knew meant she knew there was something he wasn't telling her. But she hadn't asked him any questions. She could tell when he was holding something back, but felt it was bad manners to press people for information they might prefer to keep to themselves. Daryl was grateful for that, since he didn't have answers for the questions she might have asked.

That morning, he woke up with his brother's voice in his head. _Biters are nothing but a distraction, don't forget who the real enemy is._ So Daryl was going hunting. Not for game, but for the men who's voices he and Rowan had heard in the cabin. He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do if or when he found them. Maybe watch them for a while. Or at least try find out how big their group was and how much of a threat they posed. He was not going to do what his brother would have done. _Kill them before they kill you._ Or at least that's not what he had planned.

Since he wasn't sure how much danger he was putting himself in, Daryl was going out alone. But then he ran into Aaron in the armory and the man had sort of invited himself along without really asking if Daryl wanted him to come. Now Daryl was headed towards the lake, with Aaron trailing along behind him. And Aaron was just talking and talking. Daryl liked Aaron. Aaron was good peopel. But this was not the first time Daryl had noticed that the man had a bad habit of running his mouth at the most inconvienent times. If he kept up the yapping, this little reconnaissance mission was going to go real bad real fast.

Daryl stopped walking and turned around. Not expecting his sudden movements, Aaron had to stop quick to keep from slamming right into the other man. Daryl fiddled with the tip of the extra arrow that was lying across the top of his bow. He looked like he often looked, like he had something to say and it was taking him a minute to think of the right words.

"I ain't out here ta hunt," Daryl finally said. Aaron raised his eyebrows, looking at him questioningly and waiting for a further explanation. Daryl didn't want to sell Rowan down the river, but he also wanted Aaron to know the truth about what they were doing out here.

"Me and Roe, we saw some men out 'ere a few days ago," Daryl said. Aaron nodded. He had heard that. He had been planning to come out and look for the group, maybe introduce himself and invite them back to Alexandria. But then the walker herd thing happened and those plans had been set aside for the time being.

"Rowan knew them," Daryl added, "they were part of her old group." At that admission, Aaron's eyes got a lot wider. He only knew a little about the people she had been with before. Rowan was very closed mouthed about her old group. If anyone asked her anything about her time before she came to Alexandria, she would clam right up and refuse to say a word. She talked to Eric a few times when they were alone, but even to him all she would say was that they were very bad people.

"She tell you anything else?," Aaron asked. Daryl shook his head. Rowan had barely even been willing to admit she knew those men. He tried not to think about how she might know them, and how bad it must have been for her if she had been willing to run away and go it alone.

"What are you going to do?," Aaron asked. He hoped Daryl wasn't planning to confront these men alone. That would be crazy stupid.

"Just wanta see if I can find their camp, and see how big their group is," Daryl said. Aaron took a moment to think that over. Then he got his gun out of the holster and turned the safety off. From his time on the road with the man, Daryl knew Aaron might talk too much, but he was also a lot braver than he looked, and smart besides. Maybe running into him in the armory had not been such a bad thing after all.

Aaron was quiet now. He followed Daryl closely and was careful to step only in spots where Daryl had stepped first. They stopped and ducked behind a bush. From where they were hiding, they could see a little cabin on the far side of the lake. Aaron had seen the place before, when he was out rabbit hunting. He had not found anything useful inside, and there had been a dead body of a woman on the bed inside that looked like she had been murdered. It had really creeped him out. Aaron had avoided the cabin after that.

"We saw them around here," Daryl whispered, leaning in close to keep from having to talk too loud. In case the were inside the cabin again, Daryl wanted to wait and watch a while. But after a short time, it became obvious that no one was around anywhere. The birds were still chirping and Daryl saw at least two squirrels down out of the trees. So he motioned for Aaron to follow him and stepped out from behind the bush.

Rain had come down since the last time he had been at the cabin with Rowan, so Daryl wasn't sure if he would be able to pick up any tracks. Soon he realized that the men must have come and gone from this place several times. Despite the rain, there was a well trampled path that would be easy for Daryl to follow. It also looked like those men had dragged something or someone through the woods. Maybe a deer or an injured person. There were a lot of broken twigs and branches, plus drag marks on the ground.

Aaron followed Daryl, watching the man. He kept kneeling down, looking at random patches of dirt and leaves on the ground. The man seemed to know where he was going, but to Aaron it felt like they were wandering around aimlessly. But just because he wasn't a tracker, it didn't mean he was useless. While Daryl looked at the ground, Aaron kept his gun up and watched out for anyone that might be coming their way.

The footprints and drag marks led Daryl on a long winding path through the dense woods. Once he smelled the smoke from a campfire, he got off the path, taking Aaron along with him. They circled around to the other side of the clearing. Moving slow and quiet, they listened for any signs of life. But there were no voices to be heard. And it was far too late in the day for the people to still be sleeping.

Once he was sure it was safe, Daryl walked into the small campsite. Aaron held his hand out over the spot where there had been a small campfire. It was stone cold, which meant whoever had been there had left early that moring or possibly even the day before. The dead body of a woman was tied to a tree nearby. She was naked and her body was covered in cuts and bruises. Aaron felt like he was going to be sick, and he had to turn away and lean against a tree until he got control of his stomach. Daryl took a deep breath. Then he walked over and lifted the dead woman's head up by the hair. There was a W carved into her forehead, just like the walkers they had seen when they got caught in that trap and Morgan helped them.

Other than the woman, nothing was left behind except garbage, so Aaron guessed that whoever had been there was probably not planning to come back. He felt relieved. Maybe those men just moved on. Maybe they never even found Alexandria. Maybe they would catch a damn break for once. He tried not to look at the dead woman, who was now alive again and hissing as she reached for Daryl. The man got out the wicked looking hunting knife he favored and stabbed her through the head.

"See that W on 'er head," Daryl mentioned, "just like those other ones by the food truck trap."

"Just like the men that tried to attack Morgan," Aaron mentioned. He could feel the hamster wheel spinning in his brain. Aaron felt like he was on the verge of finishing a very big and complicated puzzle. Except he was missing a few key pieces.

"Noah's place," Daryl said. He was speaking almost under his breath and Aaron wasn't sure if Daryl was talking to him or to himself. "Everyone was dead and there were walkers carved up with a W just like this'un here." Daryl pointed to the naked dead woman.

"It had to be the same people," Aaron said, chiming in. After all, how many people could be out there carving the alphabet into people's heads. Then suddenly he felt like someone turned on a lightbulb inside his head. "Rowan's old group. She said they were bad people." Daryl nodded. He had come out here knowing that he was looking for her old group. But he had no idea that there was even a possibility that they might have been the same people that tried to jump Morgan. _This old world just keeps getting smaller and smaller towards the end._ It made him sick to think of Rowan alone with people like that. He was surprised she had managed to get away with her dogs and that those people had not killed and eaten them.

For every piece of information Daryl got, he felt like he had five more quetions. Something just didn't add up. Why would these people keep Rowan around, but tie this other woman to a tree and kill her. Rowan must have had some special value to them. Something beyond the obvious.

"Do you think you can figure out where they went?," Aaron asked, bringing Daryl out of his own head and back to the present situation they were in. Daryl walked around the edge of the campsite. There were a shit ton of footprints. The most trampled path was the one going back and forth from the lake, but trails led off on almost every other direction. Guessing which one led to where they had gone would be nothing more than a roll of the dice.

"Not today," Daryl said. It was getting late in the afternoon and he didn't want to be out here after dark. It looked like the group was gone, but there was always a chance that they might come back. And the hair on the back of Daryl's neck was standing up. He didn't see or hear anyone, but he kept getting a creepy feeling like someone was watching him.

"What are we going to do about this?," Aaron asked. He was at a loss. The worst people they had to deal with in Alexandria were the three men that Deanna had ended up exhiling. And they had mostly just been stealing food and acting like jerks. They had not been tying women to trees and raping them, or slaughtering entire families.

"Got to deal with that herd first," Daryl said, "then we will worry 'bout these assholes."

Aaron nodded in agreement. One crisis at a time was one too many. Suddenly, he heard the crumple of leaves behind him. He pulled his gun up, turning to face whatever was there. But Daryl was faster than him. Before he even saw what was behind, he felt a arrow whoosh past him near his left shoulder. It hit the deer right in the head, almost going straight through and coming out the other side, the animal was so close to them. Aaron found himself laughing a little in relief. When he heard the crunch of the leaves, he was sure those men were back and they had him and Daryl surrounded. Aaron was still catching his breath for his sudden scare when Daryl walked over and got his knife out, kneeling down to slit the throat of the animal so it could start to bleed out. Aaron watched him for a moment as his breathing returned to normal and then he headed over to help.


	44. Chapter 44

Squinting her eyes shut, Olivia raked the brush through her tangled hair. She got most of the knots out, but her hair was still sticking out in different directions. She gave up and grabbed the one hairband she had left, pulling her hair back into a messy bun at the base of her neck. She used the hem of her shirt to rub at the the smudges on her glasses before shoving them onto her face. Her mouth tasted terrible, so she grabbed her toothbrush and squeezed the last little bit of toothpaste from the tube onto her brush and jammed it into her mouth.

As she scrubbed at her teeth, she headed back into the bedroom to look for her shoes. They were not in the closet ot under the chair. Or under the bed or behind the door.

"Downstairs by the front door," Eugene mumbled from under the covers in his usual monotone. Olivia opened her mouth, the toothbrush falling out. She caught it in her hands, smearing toothpaste across the front of her shirt. Olivia lost almost every item she owned at least five times a day and it never failed to amaze her that Eugene not only remembered where she had left each item, but also seemed to be able to guess what it was that she was looking for without asking.

"Thanks," she told him, thrusting the brush back into her mouth and trying to wipe at the toothpaste smear on her shirt with the other hand. Her mouth was filling up with foam and she darted into the bathroom to spit it out in the sink. She quickly rinsed her mouth and tossed her brush back into the little cup that sat on the edge of the sink. Her purple brush bounced just a little and then fell against Eugene's yellow brush. She had never had more than one toothbrush in her bathroom before. And it made her happy that like her, her toothbrush didn't have to be alone anymore.

On her way down the stairs, Olivia was careful to keep her hand on the railing. She already overslept and the last thing she needed to do was fall down the damn stairs. As she was stuffing her feet into her shoes, which were in fact next to the front door right where Eugene said they would be, there was a knock on the door. Then a lot of excited barking, which meant she Olivia knew who it was without looking. Once her shoes were on, she swung the door open.

"Hi Roe," she told the other woman, "Hi Lily and Tank." The dogs had to be greeted to of course, especailly Tank, who would sulk if Olivia ignored him.

"They're all down there waiting already," Rowan warned her. Olivia nodded, wondering how Rowan could be so chipper. After all, she had stayed up just as late as Olivia had the night before. The usual group with a few new additions, all had dinner and played cards over at Aaron's house, hoping the tradition would bring good luck to the people that were going to try and lead the herd of walkers away like it had for Aaron when he went on his recruiting missions. Spencer and Rowan seemed to have worked out whatever problems they were having, so he had come over. Plus Heath was back from his run, so he had been there, along with Rick and that very imposing black woman that carried that big sword around with her. Watching the three of them had been more amusing than the card game.

Olivia shut the door behind her and headed down the steps with Rowan, trying to keep Lily from rubbing dog hair all over her. Rowan had two small wagons full of vegetables from the garden, fresh eggs and a few glass jars of milk. She grabbed the handle to one of the wagons and left the other one for Olivia to pull. Yanking a rolled up comic book out the the wagon she was pulling, Rowan waved it around in the air, hollering threats at Lily the egg theif.

"She already broke three eggs on the way over," Rowan said, giving the dog an irritated glance. She didn't know what had gotten into that damn dog, but she was quickly losing her patience with her. And Rowan had a lot of patience. Not only had Lily broken the eggs, she had snatched up a perfectly good tomato and ran away with it, squashing it to bits in her mouth and then spitting it out onto the ground. Lily didn't even like tomatoes. "I should have left her with Daryl," Rowan grumbled.

"Will the dogs stay with him?," Olivia asked, a little edge of surprise in her voice. She thought of the dogs as an extension of Rowan. The three of them were always together.

"Lily will, Tank won't," Rowan told her. Tank didn't need to be left with Daryl. Tank knew how to behave. Daryl had been excited at the prospect of taking Lily out on the road with him, and he had been working with her, trying to get her to mind him. It seemed to be going well, except suddenly the dog had decided that she no longer had any interest in listening to Rowan, and had been behaving horribly for the woman at every possible opportunity. Don't care if you are pregnant, Rowan thought as she eyed the dog to make sure she wasn't thinking about dashing at the wagon Olivia was pulling, doesn't mean you get to act however you want.

The two women headed down the street, making small talk about the party the night before. When they turned the corner, Olivia saw the small crowd of women standing around outside the storage locker. Leave it to her to oversleep on shopping day. Once a week, one person from each household came and took what they needed for the week. Olivia kept a tally and made a list of things they were getting low on. Those items then got rationed until more could be obtained by the people that were part of the run team.

"Sorry, sorry," Olivia mumbled as she knelt down to slide her key into the metal lock on the bottom of the garage door. Rowan pulled the wagons around in front so they would be easy for the women to get to. Then she called her dogs over near the corner of the garage and tried to stay out of the way. She kept ahold of Lily's collar just in case the dog was thinking about being more of an asshole then she already had been.

Most of the women went into the garage, but one headed right for Rowan's wagons. Rowan smiled when she saw her go right for the tomatoes and the fresh basil. She had picked those items specifically with that woman in mind.

"Any garlic yet?," Shel asked. She asked that every week. This week Rowan was ready for her. She let go of Lily and poked through the wagon, pulling out some long green curls.

"No bulbs yet but I brought you some scrapes," she told the woman, holding them out to her. Shel brought the the green stems up to her face and smelled them with her eyes closed. When she opened them, she gave Rowan a big smile.

"I heard your boyfriend got a deer last night," she said to Rowan, sounding hopeful. Carol had been pretending to look through the canned items on a shelf near them, watching Rowan out of the corner of her eye. When the woman said the word boyfriend, Carol's head snapped up. She quickly recovered her composure, but Rowan had seen her reaction. She had to restrain herself to keep from rolling her eyes in a very juvenile fashion.

"Yeah, its hanging up right now, but if you come by later tonight or tomorrow he might have some of it cut up," Rowan told her. Daryl was going out for the dry run of Rick's plan today, and Rowan didn't know how long he was going to be or how tired he would be when he got back, so she didn't want to make the woman any promises. She didn't mind sharing the deer though, especially with one of the few women in town that talked to Rowan like she was a normal person.

Just when things seemed to be going well, Lily darted away from Rowan's grasp and took off down the street like a bat straight out of hell. Rowan turned, sighing in relief when she saw Deanna coming. Deanna wasn't crazy about the big dogs, especially after what Lily did to her couch the other night, but at least she wasn't scared of them. Lily shoved her nose right up the poor woman's ass, getting a healthy sniff. Then she started running around her in circles, barking and darting in behind her to nip at the woman's heels. Another woman was walking with Deanna. Rowan recognized her. She was part of Daryl's group, the pretty one that was married to the friendly asian man. Thankfully, Lily left the woman unmolested.

"Lily," Rowan called, slapping at her bare thigh, "come on back." The dog took one more go at Deanna's ankles before she dashed back over and sat down next to Rowan like she had never run off in the first place. When Deanna approached, Lily gave her a little yip like she was saying hello.

"Is Lily going gardening with us today?," Deanna asked, eyeballing the dog. The real question was, is Lily going to behave when she goes gardening with us today? Deanna had taken a liking to Tank. He had saved her life and the lives of several other people, which made him a valuable asset. Lily, on the other hand, was more of a pest, even if she had given Spencer just what he deserved the other night when he was throwing food in the living room.

"Lily's going," Rowan told Deanna, with a big toothy smile, "or I guess I could leave her in your house..."

"Very funny Rowan," Deanna told the younger woman, cocking her hand up on her hip. Rowan had her there, she would rather have the dog just about anywhere besides in her house. She still had a few nice things that she didn't want chewed up or broken. Maggie started to laugh and tried to turn it into a cough. Rowan smiled back at her before she pulled a basket out of the wagon closest to her and held it's contents out for Deanna and Maggie's approval.

"Seeds," she said, "its too late in the season for summer crops, but we can start planting for a fall garden." Maggie poked through the basket. The seeds were in envelopes, wrapped in ziplock baggies to keep them dry. She had carrots, salad greens, broccoli, peas and even a few things that Maggie had never heard of.

Lily had been sitting quietly, but suddenly she was up and barking, her tail wagging. Eric was heading in their direction, dragging a big bunch of wooden stakes down the road behind him. He tried to wave at them and a few of the wooden stakes clattered down into the street.

"For the peas," Rowan explained. She handed her basket to Maggie and ran over to help Eric. They split the pile of stakes in half, making them more managable to carry. Before they left the walls, the whole group stopped in the armory. Eric noticed that Rowan took a gun without complaint, but he did not comment on it. She didn't toss it in her basket either, like she was going to find a place to ditch it. Instead she lifted up the hem of the loose tshirt she had on and tucked it into the back of the cutoff shorts she was wearing.

Her shorts were so short the tips of the pockets were hanging out the bottom, flapping around as she moved. Rowan also had a long stick with her that she got from near where she had left her wagons and tucked it in with the wooden stakes she was carrying. Eric wondered if she actually planned on using the weapons, or if she was just going to take off running the minute something went wrong. If she was going to bolt, at least she was wearing shoes for once instead of running around barefoot, he thought with a little smile.

Since Deanna was going out, one of the guys that was on guard duty came out to the gardens with them. Rowan thought his name was Richard, but she wasn't sure. Since she purposely avoided most of the men in town, she had not had much contact with him. But on their walk back to the new expansion, he seemed nice enough. Mostly he chatted with Deanna, filling her in on a few minor things he felt she ought to know.

Richard climbed up on top of the half built wall and found a place to sit and watch for walkers. After some deliberation on where and how to get started, Rowan handed Deanna a shovel. Breaking ground in a new garden was a big event as far as Rowan was concerned. She felt like Deanna should be the one to do the honors. Really they should have had a ceremony to bless this place, and Rowan was thinking about sneaking back later and doing it herself. She would bury a whole fish deep in the ground under the area where they were going to plant seeds and say a special prayer. Maybe she would invite Morgan to come with her.

Looking around the place, Rowan was seeing not only what was there, but also the possiblities of what was going to be there, next spring and summer. And maybe even the spring and summer after that. She saw the corn growing tall and proud, mixed in with multicolored sunflowers. Runner beans would be growing up the stalks, with their bright crimson flowers. Spread out on the ground all the winter squashes would be sprawled out, shading the roots of the plants and keeping the weeds away. Over by the other wall they grow quinoa and amaranth for the colorful flowers and for the seeds that were high in protein and stored well for the winter. Colorful nasturtiums could climb the walls behind the tomatoes and the peppers. Maybe they could even build a greenhouse and be able to grow fresh food all year long. Reg was good at knowing how to build things, and at getting people to help him build them.

Rowan could see it all, as clear as if it was really laid out there in front of her. She smiled, thinking about how this place was finally starting to look more like home. Then suddenly, every bit of it was on fire. She could hear the crackle of the flames as they engulfed the entire area, ruining any hope for a better future. The tomaotes when up in a burst like someone had sprayed them with lighter fluid before lighting them. Only a few seconds later, she heard the low growl in Tank's throat. He had been running around, sniffing at the ground, but then he was by her side, teeth barred and body stiff.

"What's wrong," Eric asked immediately. He knew the face Rowan was making all too well, she only made it right before something bad was about to happen. Not to mention that Tank didn't growl for no reason. The noise coming from the big black dog made the hair on Eric's arms stand up despite the warm temperature of the morning air.

"We need to run," Rowan said, grabbing for her stick and getting it firmly in her hands, "NOW!"


	45. Chapter 45

They spent the morning blowing up colored balloons and going over Rick's plan. Making certain everyone knew where they were supposed to be and what they were supposed to do. Glen and Michonne blew up most of the balloons, but Daryl helped. Not the manliest job, but it was sort of fun. He filled up a few red ones, thinking to himself about how funny it was that he had never blown up a balloon before this day. Someone with a normal childhood would have done this before. Maybe not with helium, but at least with water. Who would have thought this is what they would be doing at the end of the world.

One empty ballon, he stuffed in the pocket of his jacket that held the braid of Rowan's hair. The one he snagged was a pearly white color, it reminded him of the crystal Rowan wore around her neck. He was thinking about blowing the balloon up later and taking it back for her. She got excited about goofy shit like that.

Preparation for Rick's plan was going well, for the most part people from their group and from Alexandria were working together and getting along. Then Rick took them all down to the area where the herd of walkers was. He wanted everyone to actually see what they were going to be dealing with. That was when everything went sour. A truck that was blocking the top exit out fell down on top of the herd. The walkers inside the area really got going after that. Loud noises were always good for making the dead go fucking crazy. They started pouring out of any possible opening, some of them even ripping themselves apart to squeeze out between the trucks. People started to look spooked, like they might panic and run. Or do something else equally as stupid.

"We are doing this now!," Rick yelled. Daryl got on his bike. He had no other choice. It's not like he could ask them to hold up for a while so he could go back to town and have Rowan go hide in a secret bunker that he the rest of them didn't even know about. He hadn't even had a chance to talk to Rick about that yet. After the dry run today he had been planning to take Rick out to the cabin, or at least tell him about it. Now he was never going to have the chance.

Not only was Rowan not hidden in the bunker, she was not even inside the walls today. She was with Deanna, and hopefully Eric or Aaron. They were gardening in that new expansion area that wasn't even all the way walled in yet. Daryl gripped the handlebars on his motorcycle and hesitated, thinking very seriously about ditching out on Rick and going back to town. The only thing that was stopping him was that him taking off might cause a mass panic. And Daryl didn't want anyone to get hurt or killed because of him.

This was not how things were supposed to go. Rowan and her dogs were supposed to be tucked safely away in that bunker with the kids. Daryl was not supposed to have to be worrying about her while he was leading these walkers away. His hand tightened around the throttle. In that moment, he came dangerously close to taking off. But then he saw the herd of walkers coming at him as the truck was moved out of their way. They were shuffling along, so many of them moaning and hissing that it was impossible to make out which noises were coming from which monster. The noise reminded Daryl of the hum of thousands of bees buzzing inside a beehive. As he listended to it, he knew then that the best way, the only way to keep Rowan safe was to get these walkers as far away from her and Alexandria as possible.

He coasted along on his bike, staying next to the junker car that Sasha and Abraham were driving. It was hard to hear anything over the roar of the herd. Even if the walkers had not been making noises, just the sound of that many bodies shuffling along was louder than one would imagine it might be. He hoped it was a noise that he would never have to hear again. Over the teeming mass of death, Daryl heard another loud noise. He cocked his head trying to listen. Then he got on the radio he had clipped onto his leather jacket.

Some sort of loud noise was coming from home, it almost sounded like the air horn on a semi truck. And the image of the trucks full of walkers at the spot where he and Aaron almost got killed popped into his mind. Rick told him the back half of the herd had broken off and they were heading for Alexandria. Daryl was going back. He argued with Rick. He argued with Sasha and Abraham. But at the next intersection, he took off. There was nothing any of them could have said that would have kept him from going.

"The only way you are going to stop me is if you kill me," Michonne informed Rick. Sword in one hand, she had the other hand up on her hip. Raising her eyebrows, she waited to see what he had to say about that. Glen could take these other people back to town. Rick was not going off by himself. Taking off alone was dangerous and stupid. Just because he was Rick didn't make it any smarter. Or safer.

Rick stared at the woman a moment, testing her resolve. Finally he just gave her a nod. Glen left, leading the rest of the small group back towards home. Rick and Michonne started running towards where they left the RV. If they got to it ahead of the herd, they could use it to lead them along behind the front half of the hoard and away from Alexandria. The plan would still work. If they could get there in time. If.

Rick considered himself a fast runner. He could all haul ass when they needed to, or he would have been dead a very long time ago. But he could tell Michonne was pacing herself so that he would be able to keep up. It irritated him and amused him at the same time. All that working out she did, he had always considered it a terrible waste of calories. But now he was wondering if maybe he ought to have done a little more cardio himself.

They got to the RV well ahead of the herd. Now there was nothing to do except sit and wait. A few walkers were shuffling by, but they needed to wait until the thicker part of the group was around them before they started to move. Michonne twisted the cap off a bottle of water and tipped it back, her throat moving as she gulped half of it down in a few big swigs. She handed the bottle to Rick. He drank his half of it in small sips to keep from having to make conversation.

The air in the RV was getting thick with awkward tension. Michonne, never one to give a subtle hint, was leaning back in her seat openly staring at him. Since what happened out at Rowan's trailer, Rick had been putting on a weird little act, pretending like nothing had happened between them. Except for anytime Heath tried to talk to her, then Rick had been acting like he was a dog and she was a tree he had peed on. If Rick liked her and wanted to make a go of it, she would be open to that. And if he didn't like her and thought that what happened between them had been a mistake, she would accept it and move on. But the back and forth crap was really starting to piss her off. They were both adults, there was no reason for him to be acting like a child. Like her daddy used to say, it was time to piss or get off the pot.

They were both stuck here. Rick was not going to be able to make some lame excuse and slink off to avoid talking to Michonne. So she sat back and stared at him, waiting for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind. Or make up his mind, as the case may be. He was shifting around in his seat, trying not to look uncomfortable. Looking for something to do, he reached under the seat to see what weapons had been left under there.

"Son of a bitch," he swore, yanking his hand up and holding it tightly with the other hand to keep from bleeding everywhere. Some idiot had left a wicked sharp machete loose under the seat, the thing was not in a sheath. When he groped under the seat, he had cut the shit out of his hand on it. Michonne jumped up, running for the first aid kit in the back of the RV. She pulled out the rubbing alcohol first, reaching for his head.

"Don't be such a baby," she told him when he started wincing. She hadn't even done anything yet. Rick took a deep breath and forced himself to open his hand. Michonne moved fast, dumping the alcohol over his wound and then pressing down on it hard with a big gauze pad. She held it down tight until the bleeding slowed. Wounds on the head and hands always seemed like they bled more than cuts anywhere else on the body.

When he was about a year and a half old, her son Andre had fallen off the couch and split his lip open. He had bled like a stuck pig and her boyfriend had been in an absolute panic. Phone in hand, he had been hollering and screaming, calling 911. But once she got her small son's mouth wiped up, there had only been the tiniest little cut there. An abulance had shown up and she had been able to tell the paramedics were having a hard time not laughing at them. Silly first time parents panic calling 911 when all their baby had was a bump on the mouth.

"Where'd you go?," Rick asked her suddenly. She was holding his hand in hers, but then suddenly she was looking right through him like he wasn't even there, a soft far-away look in her eyes and a pretty smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head to clear it of the images. It had been a long time since she had been able to think about her son without thinking about the horror and feeling the anger well up inside her again. She replaced the blood soaked pad with a fresh one and wrapped the whole mess in loads of gauze. The trick was keeping it tight enough to stop the bleeding, but not so tight that it cut off the circulation to Rick's fingers.

"I'm driving," she informed him, giving him back his hand. She got up, and they moved around each other awkwardly in the small space. Michonne caught her her boot on the corner of the seat and almost fell on top of him, but he caught her and set her down gently in the seat. She noticed he held onto her just a fraction of a second longer than was necessary. Leaning over, she put her hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. He kept still and stiff at first, but then he was leaning towards her, closing the distance between them. His lips only brushed across hers for a fraction of a second before the RV started shaking slightly from side to side. Audible thumps could be heard, the sounds of so many dead bodies slamming into the sides of the large vehicle.

"We better get going," Rick announced, like he thought Michonne was planning to sit in the middle of the herd and do nothing all day. She laughed, then covered her mouth since she didn't want to make too much noise until they had more of the herd behind them instead of around them.

"You think?," she joked. Twisting the key in the ignition, she started up the engine. Then she put her foot on the gas, making the vehicle move as slowly as possible. What she was doing seemed to be working. Most of the walkers were getting edged out of the way and the rest were following along behind the RV. Once they were out in front of most of them, Michonne started leaning on the horn to encourage the rest of them to follow along behind. It only took about 15 minutes before they could see the endless herd of walkers stretching out behing them like a death crazed parade.

"How far are we going again," she asked.

"At least 20 miles out," Rick told her.

"Going to be a long drive as slow as we are going to have to go," she said. Turning her head, she gave Rick a pointed glance. Now it was his turn to laugh. He was getting her not so subtle hints.

"That should give us plenty of time to talk," he said, watching the smile on her face get wider. She glanced at him to make sure he was serious. Then she agreed with what he said.

"That it should."


	46. Chapter 46

**** Thanks to everyone that took the time to leave a review and welcome to all my new readers. I hope you all are enjoying the story. ****

She could feel the hard tug on her arm. Rowan was yanking at her, trying to get her moving, but she was staring at Richard's burning body. He was still flopping and twitching around. But there was no help for him. Parts of him were already so badly burnt they were turning black and crispy looking. Rowan let go of Deanna's arm and got out the gun she had stuffed into the back of her shorts. She held it in both hands and aimed it at the dying man's head. She hesitated a moment, bringing one hand up to wipe at her eyes. Then she grasped the gun firmly and pulled the trigger.

The first shot missed, hitting the ground next to him. But the next one went through his head. His body flopped once and then was still as the flames ate up what was left of him. Maggie and Eric both jumped at the sound of the gun being fired so close. They had their guns up and pointed at the walls, trying to figure out where the people were that had hit Richard with the flaming bottle of gas. Tank stayed close to Rowan, growling with his teeth barred, while Lily ran around, barking like crazy at anything that moved. Rowan grabbed Deanna again this time by the hand.

"Let's get out of here," Rowan hollered at Eric and Maggie. Eric nodded. No matter what the situation was, Rowan always wanted to run. But this time she was right. Eric could already hear the popping sounds of gunshots coming from inside the walls. The only thought on his mind was that Aaron was in there.

Maggie and Eric took the lead, with Rowan and Deanna following behind. Deanna was afraid, more afraid than she remembered being ever before. She was grateful for Rowan's warm hand in hers, and for the giant dogs that were running along on either side of them, watching out for anyone that might approach. The sound of the horn was getting louder and louder. It was starting to make her want to pull her hands up and put them over her ears. Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. As awful as the noise had been, the lack of it meant they could hear the noises coming from inside the walls. The sounds of people figthing and dying.

Maggie and Eric headed for the front gates, looking for a way to get inside. They could see a semi truck had crashed into the bell tower, so at least they knew where the honking sound had been coming from.

"Mom!," a familiar voice called out. Deanna breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was Spencer. She let go of Rowan's hand and ran for him, hugging her tall son tightly around the waist. He hugged her back and then he was rushing ahead to get ahold of Rowan, holding her tight with both his arms around her and the big gun he was holding pressing into her back.

"A big group," he said, talking faster then he realized, "they got inside the walls and they're in there killing people."

"Let's go," Maggie said. She and Eric were heading towards the front gate, which was not hanging open.

"I have to go find Aaron," Eric called to Rowan. She nodded and waved for him to go. He and Maggie took off running with their guns up. Rowan moved to follow them, but Deanna grabbed her hand.

"Wait," Deanna said, "I can't go in, I don't know how to fight. I will just be one more person you have to protect." She felt ashamed of her words but she knew they were true. It was her people getting that were getting killed in there, and she was too afraid to try and fight the people that were attacking them. Rowan ran over to the bell tower, kicking in a few already smashed in boards to make and opening big enough. Spencer moved quickly to help her.

"Get in," Rowan told Deanna. She handed the woman her gun before she climbed through the opening. Then Rowan signalled to Lily. "Go in Lily." The big dog squeezed into the opening after Deanna and sat down next to her. Rowan knelt down so she could see the woman, nodding when she saw that Deanna already had a tight hold on the dog's collar with one hand. "Keep hold of her, she will warn you if anyone is coming," Rowan told the woman. Her eyes flicked towards the back of the truck. "Don't go near that truck, I think it's full of walkers." She offered no explanation for this suspicion, but Deanna still believed her. She nodded her head. Rowan nodded back before she stood up and turned towards Spencer, who was looking more and more afraid by the second. She grabbed one of his hands in hers.

"We have to help. Your dad is in there," she reminded him. He swallowed hard and nodded his head. He wanted to help. Even if he was scared, there was no way he was letting Rowan out of his sight.

"I'm ready," he said. Rowan wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her, or himself, but he was right. His hands were not shaking anymore and he had a tight grip on his gun. Rowan snapped her fingers at Tank, signalling him to stay close to her. Then she and Spencer started running in the direction that Maggie and Eric had taken. Rowan had given her gun to Deanna, so she was armed only with the long sturdy stick that Morgan had been teaching her how to use.

Spencer had seen some of the fighting from up in the bell tower, but nothing could have prepared him for what it felt like to see it going on right in front of his eyes. There were dead hacked up bodies lying around, blood seeping out of them onto the concrete. It made his stomach turn, and he felt like he might be sick. But then his adrenaline kicked in. They ran towards his house, thinking that was the place where his father was most likely to be.

The front door was hanging open, and from the street they could see that things inside the house had been disturbed. Spencer felt the tight hand of fear closing around his throat again, but this time he was afraid for his father, not himself. Tank ran up the steps, with Rowan close behind. She was yelling his father's name. Spencer could hear his father's voice then, calling out Rowan's name. He sounded terrified.

They ran for the sound and found Reg on the floor in the kitchen, with a young man on top of him, pressing down towards his throat with a knife. The man had long black hair and his face was painted up with what looked like war paint. Rowan couldn't use her stick in the small space between the kitchen counters. So she ran around and grabbed ahold of the young man by the hair, dragging him up and back. Pulling him away from Reg. Tank was barking and showing his teeth. It took Spencer a moment before he realized Rowan was calling the young man by name.

"Takoda," she screamed, "Stop it now! Takoda! Stop, it's me. Let him go!" Her accent sounded thicker and then she was yelling at the boy in another language, "Aystan! Aystan! Stop it right now!"

To Spencer absolute shock, the young man listened to her and stopped. He let go of his knife and it clattered to the floor next to Reg's head. Spencer shoved Tank out of the way and seized his father under the armpits, dragging him back and away from the would be murderer. Aside from some bruises and a shallow cut on the side of his neck, Reg seemed no worse for wear. His glasses were broken on the kitchen floor.

"Are you a ghost?," the young man asked Rowan once she let go of his hair and he could turn around to face her, "everyone said you were dead."

"No," she said, "I'm not dead, and these people are my friends." The young man eyed the other men, looking unsure.

"Grey Wolf said they were wendigo," he insisted, "they are not supposed to be here."

"He was wrong," Rowan told the boy. "We have to stop this before anyone else gets hurt," she said, taking the boy's hand in hers, "will you help me?" Takoda was not much older than Rick's son Carl. He looked like he had grown at least a foot since the last time she saw him. But they had been friends once. They used to go fishing together, Rowan liked fishing with him because he would always bait her hook for her without giving her a hard time about it.

The young man gave Spencer and Reg one more susicious glance. Then he turned back to Rowan and nodded his head, looking determined. He let go of her hand and reached down to pick up his knife from the floor. Spencer was glad the boy had agreed to help them, but he was not so sure about letting him have the knife back. He had just been using it to try and murder Reg for no reason.

"It's okay," Rowan assured Spencer, like she could sense what he was thinking. Then she was heading for the front door, with the boy and Tank close behind her. That was when Spencer realized that despite the fact that the young man had been attacking his father, Tank had only barked at the boy. The dog must have known the young man well. That was the only explanation that Spencer could think of for his behavior.

The first thing they saw outside was another man with black hair and a painted face chasing Jessie's older son with a hatchet. Rowan and Takoda started running after them, yelling for the man to stop. When he didn't she pointed towards him.

"Tank, get him!" The smell of blood and the sounds of so many people screaming already had the dog on edge. He was more than eager to be given something to do and he charged off after the man like a freight train. Snapping his jaws down on the man's ankle, Tank sunk his teeth in. The man hit the ground hard, his head bouncing off the packed dirt under the grass and his machete flying out of his grasp.

Ron snatched it up, holding it in both hands and backing away from the man. Tank had ahold of the man's pants and he was shaking him around like a rag doll. It took Ron a moment before he realized his life had just been saved by the same dog that killed his father. He took another step back and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," Carl told the other boy, "It's just me." Ron lowered the knife. Carl was urging him to come inside his house. But Ron took off running for home instead. He had to make sure his mom and brother were alright.

Rowan had ahold of Tank's collar, dragging him away from the man on the ground. She looked up and saw Enid on the porch of Carl's house. Tears almost filled her eyes she was so relieved. Enid could take care of herself, but Rowan still worried about the girl.

"Get inside the house and stay there," she yelled at both Carl and Enid. Carl nodded and ran back up the porch steps, taking Enid inside with him. The man on the ground had rolled over and her was grabbing at his bleeding ankle, crying out in pain.

"We told you to stop," Takoda told him, kneeling down and trying to take a look at the other man's injuries. The man was suddenly quiet, staring up at Rowan with his mouth open.

"Otshee Monetoo," he cursed, holding his fingers up and making an X out of them to keep her back.

"I'm not an evil spirit," Rowan told the man. He kept his hands up, looking at her with more suspicion, thinking that was just the sort of thing an evil spirit would say. "Daniel," she said in a more gentle tone, "I'm not dead, I ran away and I've been living here with these people." The man put his hands down and let her get closer. She nudged Takoda out of the way and pulled what was left of the Daniel's pantleg up. His ankle looked terrible, and while it was his own fault she had to sick Tank on him, she still felt bad. The ankle looked broken and there was no way he was going to be able to walk on it. Rowan looked up at Spencer.

"Can you take him to the infirmary?," she asked. Spencer nodded reluctantly and moved forward to try and help the man.

"Stay away from me Wendigo!," the man hollered at Spencer. Spencer jumped back, giving the man a dirty look and then looking at Rowan to see what she was going to do. But it was the young man that spoke up.

"Stop it Daniel," Takoda told the man, "these people are Rowan's friends."

"Grey Wolf said they were Wendigo," the man insisted, "they are not supposed to be here." That line was starting to sound familiar, Spencer thought. And what the hell was this wendigo that they were all going on about, he wondered. These people sounded crazy.

"Do you want your ankle fixed or not?," Rowan asked the man. Spencer was surprised at the harshness in her tone. Whatever these people were carrying on about, she had clearly gotten sick of hearing about it a long time ago. The man looked down at his ankle, the pain returning to his face. He nodded his head. "Enough with the wendigo stuff then," she told him firmly. He nodded again.

Spencer moved forward and with the help of Rowan and the young man, they got Daniel up onto his good leg. Spencer shifted his gun out of the man's reach and got under the man's arm to help him support his weight. The guy was big, but felt lighter than he looked. Spencer knew then that the man had not had a decent meal in a long time. Not that it made what these people were doing right, but in that moment Spencer got a small glimmer of understanding into the reason his people were being attacked. Before Spencer or the other man could say anything else to her, Rowan was running towards another fight with Takoda and Tank right behind her.

Another man in war paint had father Gabriel on the ground. She ran at the man, but Morgan got there first. Rowan had never been so relieved to see anyone in her whole life. Morgan hit the man with his stick, knocking him off the man that was being attacked. Before he could hit him again, a young man that was painted up just like the others darted in between them.

"Takoda, what are you doing," the man on the ground asked. Rowan was relieved when she saw who it was. Mahkah was Takoda's cousin. He would listen to them. Maybe help them to try and stop this. The man in the ground looked up at his baby cousin, and then tried to focus on the woman standing next to him. The sun was so bright around her, she was only a silhouette. All he could see clearly was her legs, the bare skin covered in freckles and splashed with splatters of fresh blood. Her long hair fell down over her shoulder in a braid that was swinging with her movements. When she moved to help the man he had attacked up off the ground, he saw her face.

"Rowan," he said. The word came out like a whisper under his breath. "You live here?" She nodded as Takoda helped him up off the ground. The black man that had hit him with the stick moved closer, standing partly in front of Rowan and the man in the religious suit that he had been attacking. Mahkah stepped back, trying to show the man with the stick that he meant them no further harm.

"I have to stop this," Rowan told him. She stepped around the man with the stick, putting her hand gently on Morgan's shoulder as she spoke to the other man. "Will you help?" Before Mahkah could answer, the front of his cousin's face exploded, sending blood flying out of him. Rowan felt the fluid hit her face, still warm when it splashed across her. Someone had shot him in the back of the head. Before they even had a chance to react, Mahkah's head exploded in a similar manner and his now lifeless body slumped to the ground.

Rowan felt her knees hit the ground with a hard thump. She grabbed at Takoda, holding his head like she was going to be able to put it back together with her hands. Blood was dripping down the side of her face, getting into her eye were it stung and made it hard for her to see through her tears.

Carol ran forward, pausing to give Rowan a dirty look before she reached into the bag she was carrying and thrust a gun into Father Gabriel's hands. Then she shoved another one at Morgan and took off. Morgan handed to gun to the other man.

"I'm not very good with guns," Gabriel told him. He was very confused about what was going on. It seemed like the man that had been ready to kill him a few moments before had changed his mind and was going to help them. And then Carol had shot him through the head.

"Me either," Morgan told the man. He gestured towards Rowan, who was holding the body of the young man in her arms, rocking back and forth and crying over him. "Help her," Morgan told the man. It came out sounding more like a question.

"I can do that," Gabriel said. He shoved one gun in the back of his pants like he had seen other people do. He set the other one on the ground and started trying to pull the crying woman away from the young man she was clinging onto. Gabriel had seen her around, she was involved with one of the men from Rick's group. He knew she was the one people whispered about. They said odd things about her. The rumor he had heard the most was that she was a witch and could control animals with her mind. All Gabriel could see was a thin and very terrified young woman. She had a big black dog with her, but the animal looked ordinary enough to him. It was whining softly, trying to get closer to the woman.

"He's gone," Gabriel told her, trying to remove Rowan's hands from the boy as gently as possible. She was covered in blood, making the front of her green t-shirt look almost black. Rowan let his words sink in, understanding that what he was saying was true. Takoda was gone, there was nothing she could do for him now. But there were people here that still needed her help. She let the man help her up onto her feet, hanging on to him for a moment to steady herself.

Her head was spinning with the combined noises of everyone that was crying inside the walls all mingling together in her mind. She struggled to focus. One thing stood out crystal clear to her, everything in the background blending together in one big bloody blur. The gun on the ground at her feet. She grabbed for it, her hands slippery with blood. The man that had helped her up was trying to talk to her. He wanted her to come inside with him. To hide until the fight was over. Rowan taste his fear on her lips, but his words were underwater, like something shouted over a roaring crowd. She shook him off, which wasn't hard to do since he had only had his hands on her to steady her on her feet, not to force her to go with him. Wiping some of the blood off her hands onto the bare skin of her thighs, Rowan got a firmer grip on the gun. Then she whistled for Tank and headed in the direction she had seen Carol go.


	47. Chapter 47

Before she even had a chance to think about acting out her revenge, Rowan spotted Morgan near the front gates. He was surrounded by at least five of her old group members. Using his stick, he was keeping them back, but they had him heavily outnumbered. He was not going to be able to hold them off forever. Rowan forgot her plans to go after Carol for the time being and ran to his defense.

The man that seemed to be in charge of the small group was one of the men that had approached Morgan near his campfire shortly before he ran into Daryl and Aaron. His hair was shaved into a kind of mohawk, with the back of it hanging down long and tangled. His face was painted, but since Morgan had seen him without the paint, he knew that under the paint the W was carved into the man's head. He guessed the other people in the group were carved up in a similar fashion.

"Our people have guns, yours don't," Morgan told the man, "if you don't leave now they are going to kill you." First the man was looking like he was going to try and get close enough to Morgan to use his knife on him. But then suddenly he was backing away, his eyes open wide.

"Hekaza," the man said. He was looking at Rowan, who had appeared at Morgan's side, covered in smears of blood and holding a gun in her hands. She pointed it at the man. First of all, the man was surprised to see her. But also, she was bloody and holding a gun, a weapon he had never seen her touch before.

"We searched for you for weeks," the man told Rowan, "Derek wanted to keep looking, but Grey Wolf gave you up for dead..." The man took a step towards her, and then quickly moved back when she pointed the gun at his chest in an obvious threat. Tank also added his warning to hers, with a growl. If the man got any closer, the dog was going to take him down.

Morgan could only understand part of what was being said. The man was speaking in a broken mix of heavily accented english mixed in with some unfamiliar words and Rowan was answering him back in the same way.

"Do like Morgan says," Rowan told him, "Leave and don't ever come back. Pretend you never saw me. I don't want anyone else to die."

"Come with us," the man said, his voice now pleading. She knew why. If her father found out they found her, and came back without her, it was not going to go well for them. She held onto that thought, hoping they might never tell the man they had seen her.

"No." She said that in english, moving closer to Morgan. The man with the mohawk nodded, then he made a clicking sound with his mouth, signaling the others to follow his lead. The small group ran for the gate, one man stopping on the way to grab a gun that someone had dropped in the street.

Once they were out of sight, Rowan looked down at the gun in her hands. She dropped it to the ground as if the metal was burning her like acid and stepped back. Suddenly, she wasn't sure who she was or what she was doing. Why would she be holding a gun, using it to protect one person she cared for against another person she knew. When she closed her eyes, all she could see was the faces, painted up for war. The murder mask. They did the ghost dance around the fire after they painted them on, getting wound up before the kill. Having Rowan do the face paint was considered lucky, and she remembered the sick feeling she would get as she was mixing up the bowls of colored paste.

When she opened her eyes everything around her was spinning and she felt her forehead break out in a cold sweat. Blood was everywhere, covering her. And she wasn't even sure who all of it belonged to. The last thing Rowan felt were Morgan's strong hands around her. Then her entire world went black.

Daryl knew he was driving faster than was really safe. But he had to circle all the way back around the entire herd, then double back and come in a different way to get to Alexandria. He headed for the new expansion, since that was where Rowan had said she was going. Parking his bike near the road, he got off and grabbed his bow. Heading along the half built wall, he kept an eye out for walkers. The first thing he saw inside the wall was a burnt body, still letting off plumes of horrible smelling smoke.

The body was badly burnt, making it hard to indentify. But at least he could tell the body belonged to a man, so that meant it wasn't Rowan. Daryl looked around some more. It was easy to tell which footprints belonged to the woman he was looking for. He knew the size of her feet and how she walked, putting more weight on the balls of her feet than on the heels. But it was easier just to follow the dogprints. Wherever the dogs went, Rowan was sure to be. Daryl found her basket, filled with labelled packages of seeds in her tiny even handwriting. Carrots. Peas, progress number 9. Romanecso Broccoli. Under that one it said, Olivia's favorite - plant extra.

Picking up the envelopes that had been spilled from the basket, Daryl tossed them back inside and picked the basket up. He kept his bow in the other hand and followed the dogprints. He was relieved there were lots of other footprints mixed in, and all of them were heading back towards town. That meant Rowan was not alone. As he came around the edge of the wall that had not been finished yet, Daryl heard the crunch of leaves. He turned quickly, dropping the basket, but he was still too slow. He only got a small glimpse of movement and then the side of his head exploded in pain. _Don't pass out, if you do you are fucking dead._ Merle's voice. Daryl tried to listen but the pain in his head was overwhelming. The last thing he saw was a blurry figure leaning over him. Then everything went black.

Daryl woke to a horrible pounding in his head. He wanted to be back in the darkness, Rowan had been there with him. But then his face was splashed with cold water. He tried to bring his hands up to wipe the water away, but his wrists were tied together. A bottle of water was brought up to his lips, and some of it was dumped into his mouth. He gagged on it, spitting most of it down the front of him. Whoever was helping him must be patient, because he felt his mouth being wiped up and then the bottle pressed against his lips again. This time he was ready for it, and gulped as much water down as he could before the bottle was pulled away.

Opening his eyes, everything was blurry at first. He was starting to get worried about how hard his head had been hit. The pain was throbbing and the side of his head felt wet and sticky. Blinking his eyes a few times, finally he was able to focus on the person in front of him.

The figure was a woman. She looked like she was probably of Native American descent, with tan skin and dark eyes. But her hair was lighter, with sun bleached streaks blonde around the face that were almost blonde. She was wearing jeans and a tank top with a fringed leather vest on top of it. As skinny as the rest of her was, her stomach was sticking out from under her shirt, looking big and swollen like she had swallowed a watermelon. The letter W was carved into her forehead.

"He's awake," the woman called over to someone that Daryl couldn't see. Then she was gone, leaves and grass softly cruching under her feet as she headed over to join a few other woman who were sitting near a small campfire. One of them was wearing Daryl's leather jacket, wrppaing it around her like she was cold. And he could also see his crossbow, discarded in a camping chair.

A man came around from somewhere behind Daryl. He couched down in front of him. Age was a hard thing to guess, but Daryl put this man at maybe a little older than him. Merle's age. The man had long black wavy hair with streaks of white running through it. The front of it was pulled back from his face and tied with a strip of leather, revealing the jagged W that was carved into his forehead. Daryl was fairly certain he had never seen this man before in his life, but something about the man seemed familiar. Really familiar. The shape of his eyes and the way his mouth turned down just a little at the corners. Even his hair, how heavy it looked. Like a blanket. Just like Rowan's hair.

The man held something up in front of Daryl's face. It took him a moment to focus on it, especially since the item was swinging back and forth a little. When he realized what it was, Daryl started to struggle against the ropes that bound him. That man had Rowan's braid of hair, the one with the tiger's eye crystal tied onto it. This asshole had not right to be touching that. No right at all. It made Daryl feel like the man had his hands in the woman herself.

"I am going to ask you something," the man told Daryl. The accent he had. It was much thicker than Rowan's but it sounded similar. The man snapped his fingers in front of Daryl's face, making sure he had the man's full attention. "I am going to ask you something," he said again, "and I am only going to ask you once." The man paused a moment, letting that sink in. From the tone in the man's voice, there was no doubt in Daryl's mind that the man planned to kill him on the spot if he didn't like what Daryl had to say to him. "Understand?," the man asked. Daryl nodded his head. The man held the braid of Rowan's hair up in front of Daryl's face again. Then he spoke.

"Where the hell is my daughter?"


	48. Chapter 48

Rowan did not want to wake up. But because of the noise in the room she had no choice. Her dreams had been good ones. When she fainted, she fell deep down into the darkness, feeling a bit like Alice must have felt when she went tumbling down the rabbit hole. But unlike Alice, Rowan had not been alone in the abyss. A loving presence was down there, holding her tight so that she knew she didn't need to be afraid anymore. Back in the real world, she could only hear the sound of a lot of loud angry voices.

They were jumbled together at first. Not distinguishable words, just a swirling noisy racket. But soon Rowan was able to pick out the voices she knew. Spencer and Deanna were both easy to recognize. There was another with a more southern accent that she was pretty sure belonged to Rick. Then a quieter voice that sent a shiver up her spine. _We should kill him now before he has the chance to hurt anyone else._ Rowan sat up, feeling a little dizzy. A hand came down on her shoulder and she instinctively flinched away from the touch.

Looking up, Rowan was relieved when she saw the hand belonged to Morgan. She let her body relax. Her dogs were both lying on the floor next to the small cot she was on. Rowan felt a pinch in her arm, and was shocked to see a needle there, taped into place. She hated a lot of things, but none more than she hated needles. And this one had been stuck into her without her permission.

"She thought you might be dehydrated," Morgan said when he saw Rowan staring at the clear tube that led into her arm with a look of complete horror on her face. She didn't respond, she just started clawing at the tape that was holding the needle into her arm. "Don't do it like that," Morgan said, scared that she was going to rip her arm open or even worse break the needle off inside her arm. He took hold of her arms to stop the woman from hurting herself. Rowan didn't try to fight him, Morgan was much stronger than her, instead she started shrieking.

"GET IT OUT OF ME! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!," Rowan screamed at the top of her lungs. Daniel, the injured wolf the others had been arguing over, started to try and get out of his bed, remembered he was cuffed to his bed, and started adding his voice to Rowan's. The metal handcuff was rattling against the rail of the bed, making a loud noise all it's own.

"LET HER GO!," he screamed, "Get the fuck off her! Let go of her you fucking wasichu!" Of course the dogs started up, barking and howling. Morgan was a friend, not to be hurt, so instead of knocking him down, Tank grabbed the man by the pantleg and started trying to drag him away from Rowan. Denise was the new town doctor. What she had read in medical books had not prepared her for the horror she had faced already today. She raced over, looking at Morgan and Rowan, trying to figure out what in the fucking hell was going on now.

"The IV needle," Morgan shouted over the dogs barking, "Get it out of her." He felt the leg of his pants rip and Tank flew backwards with most of the bottom half of Morgan's pant leg in his mouth, slamming into Deanna and knocking her into her husband's arms. The dog shook the material in his mouth, making Morgan grateful that it was not still attached to his leg. Denise held the plastic tube down tight against Rowan's arm and ripped the tape off. Then she yanked the IV out and jumped back. Morgan let go of the woman just in time to feel Lily's teeth closing in on his backside. He yelped in pain, scrambling to get away from the dog, who was looking rather pleased with herself for what she had done. Rubbing at his butt cheek, he could tell Lily had not bitten him hard enough to break the skin, but he was probably going to have a healthy bruise there for a week or two.

"Sorry," Rowan said, "I just really hate needles." With the offensive item out of her arm, she was now looking much calmer, though she was still holding onto her arm with her hand like it had been badly injured.

"Never seen anyone act like such a baby in my life over a damn IV needle," Denise mumbled under her breath. She walked over to the other cot, adjusting the man's leg so his ankle was propped back up on the pillows that were elevating it. He flopped back down on his pillow, but not before giving Rowan a rather dirty look. Scared the shit out of him is what she had done, screaming like she was being fucking axe murdered.

"I said sorry," Rowan told him. Daniel shook his head, giving the doctor woman a smile.

"Once her leg got cut so bad it needed stiches," the man informed Denise, "You shoulda been there for that. Took four grown men to hold her down."

"Shut up about that Daniel," Rowan told the man. She didn't need him bringing up a bunch of stupid stories about her. And she wasn't sure she wanted Deanna and everyone else to know how well they knew each other. He was from her father's reservation. She had known him since she was a girl. Tank put his front paws up on Rowan's cot and then leaped up with his back legs. The cot groaned a little under his weight, but it held him. Rowan wrapped her arms around the big dog, burying her face in his fur.

"So you two do know each other?," Rick asked, stepping forward between the cots. Rowan nodded and so did the man with the W carved into his head. She figured it was obvious once he started screaming for Morgan to let go of her that they knew each other. There was no point in trying to lie about it now.

"Sorry," Daniel repeated for what felt like at least the hundreth time, "We didn't know you were Roe's friends when we came here."

"Why did you attack us?," Deanna asked, stepping up behind Rick.

"We haven't ate in two days," the man said, "We wanted your food." The explanation seemed a little too simple, but it rang with some measure of truth. The man looked empty, like he had not eaten a full meal in a long time.

"You could have come to the gates and asked for food," Deanna told the man. He just snorted in response, like he thought she was full of shit. No one gave food away for free, and certainly not enough to feed the entire wolf pack.

"We should kill him now before he had the chance to hurt anyone else," Carol said. Rowan glared at the woman, knowing now who had made that same statement a few minutes ago.

"Those people you shot outside," Rowan told her, pointing at the woman, "they were trying to help us." Anyone could have seen that Takoda wasn't doing anything threatening. He was just standing there. But she shot him anyway.

"Or maybe you were trying to help them," Carol said, her tone accusatory. At that, Rowan started up out of the bed. Takoda's blood was still on her, dried up in blotchy smears. She was so angry with Carol, she was ready to attack the woman with her bare hands. Deanna moved quickly, pushing Rowan back into a sitting postion on the cot.

"Let me handle this," Deanna told Rowan quietly. Rowan had that wild animal look in her eyes. Deanna had not seen that since Aaron first brought the woman in off the road. It made Deanna scared of what she might do. The last thing they needed was another fight. Rowan nodded and sat back with her arms crossed. Deanna could handle it all she wanted. Carol had crossed the line for the last time with Rowan when she shot Takoda. If she tried anything else, Rowan would put a double spit hex on that nasty woman and let the universe sort out her problems for her. Carol had only been given this much rope to hang herself because she was friends with Daryl. And speaking of Daryl.

"Where's Daryl," Rowan asked Morgan as Deanna headed outside with the rest of the small crowd.

"The dry run went bad," Morgan explained, "the walkers got loose and they had to do it today. Not everyone is back yet." Rowan nodded, her eyebrows knitted together with concern. It wasn't time to really worry yet, but she hoped Daryl would hurry up and get back.

"We've got another problem," Morgan told Rowan. She could hear the note of concern in his voice, and he was glancing towards Denise. He wasn't worried about the wolf in the bed hearing what he was going to say, but he wasn't sure he trusted the doctor woman. He looked at Denise, trying to get a read on her.

"Go ahead and say what you need to say," Denise told him. She wasn't a tattle tale. After years of practicing psychology, she was used to keeping other people's secrets. And she was curious about what he was going to say. No one ever told her anything. Morgan pointed to the man in the bed.

"He's not the only injured wolf we have here," he said, "I've got another one tied up downstairs." Not only did he have another member of this group captive. The man downstairs was not acting quite as docile and apologetic as the one in the bed next to Rowan. The other man had been making threats and trying to escape despite his injuries. Morgan had tried talking to him, but it had not seemed to help.

Rowan swung her legs out of the bed slower this time, getting her feet under her before she stood up. She looked like an absolute mess. Her shirt was ripped and dark with dried blood and her shorts were covered in blood as well. Denise had cleaned up her face and arms, but her legs were still crusted with the stuff. There was even some in her hair. The bruises on the side of her face and her wrist were fading, but they were still visible. She looked thin and fragile, like she might blow away in a strong enough wind.

"Take me to him," Rowan said.


	49. Chapter 49

Rick, Deanna and the others were still talking out in front of the medical center. Rowan listened long enough to make sure that Deanna was not just going to let Carol march in there and shoot Daniel. They she headed for her trailer. Morgan couldn't take her downstairs to see the man he had captive until that group of people was gone from the street in front of the infirmary building.

For now, that was fine with Rowan. She needed to check on her animals. And she needed to wash the blood off. Everytime she looked at the dark sticky fuild that was dried on her clothes and body, the sight of it made her want to start screaming. She wanted to scream and just keep screaming until everything around her went black again. But instead she forced herself to look ahead at where she was walking instead of down at the blood that was crusted all over her.

Enid was sitting near the firepit. She had already taken care of the animals while Rowan was in the infirmary, and Rowan gave her a grateful smile. Then she headed straight for the water barrel and started stripping off her bloody clothes, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. Enid appeared next to her with a bowl and two washrags. She handed one to Rowan and kept the other one in her own hand.

"Dunk your head in first," Enid suggested, "Its in your hair too." Rowan did as she was told, feeling more like she was the child and Enid was the mother. Once her hair was wet, Enid helped her wash it, and she helped Rowan get the blood off her face and back, where she couldn't see herself to know if she got it all. Once she was clean, Rowan felt cold and shivery, but so much better. She finally felt like she was able to breathe again without wanting to scream.

Shoving most of the water off her body with her hands, she wrung her hair out by twisting it into a long rope and squeezing it. Her hair would still stay wet for most of the day, but at least that got enough water out that it would not be dripping everywhere. In her trailer, she pulled on a pair of underpants and wrapped her fringed buckskin skirt around her waist. It was the warmest looking thing she could find. She put on a black tank top and then threw the buckskin vest on top of that to hide her nipples, which were hard and poking through the thin fabric of the tank top. Her crystal necklace was still around her neck. She didn't take it off to bathe.

The corner of Daryl's handkercheif was peeking out from under her pillow and Rowan snatched it up. Eager to feel the comfort of being close to him, she planned tie it loosely around her neck like a scarf. But once she had it in her hands, she had a sudden flash. Her wrists were bound tightly and she could feel the hard bark of a tree behind her back. As quickly as it had come, the feeling was gone. But it scared Rowan and made her really start worrying about Daryl. Rick already said if he wasn't back in the morning, they would go look for him. But to Rowan that seemed like a thousand years away from now. As she tied the hanky around her neck, she was thinking she might take the dogs out and look for the man herself.

Morgan had not been able to tell her who he had locked up, but he had described the man's injury. Rowan took what she needed from her trailer. Clean rags for bandages. Herbs for washing the wound out and packing it. Plus what she neeed to make a tea that would help with the pain and swelling. She also grabbed some dried travelling food. Whoever he was, there was no doubt he would be hungry.

Morgan was sitting on the steps of the infirmary, looking intentionally casual. He was waiting for Rowan, and making sure no one got any funny ideas about going in and killing the man with the broken ankle. When he saw Rowan, he got to his feet and walked quickly towards the locked door that led down into the small basement apartment where no one ever went. He looked around to be sure that no one was watching them, and then he opened the door and ushered her and the dogs inside before locking it behind them.

Rowan gripped her messanger bag. She could see a pair of long legs stretched out on the narrow mattress in the next room. But nothing could have prepared her for who those legs belonged to. As soon as Rowan entered the room, she dropped her bag, sending it to the floor with a thump. Then she started backing away, slamming into Morgan, who put his arm around her shoulders to steady her.

"I can't do this," she told him, her eyes opening wide with her fear and panic. Tank issued a low growl in his throat. The big dog was becoming less and less impressed with Morgan. The man had grabbed Rowan in the infirmary, and now he was scaring her.

"Why, who is that?," Morgan asked her. He had not seen Rowan react this way to any of the other former member of her group. Why was this man different? Rowan did not answer him, she just kept looking back and forth between him and the man on the mattress with a frightened look on her face. "It's alright," Morgan told her, trying to calm her down, "I won't allow him to hurt you. Just treat his wound and you can go."

Rowan's hand came up, grasping at the crystal that was hanging on her necklace. She took a few deep breaths. She could do this. She had to do this. Morgan thought she was afraid of Derek hurting her. And she was. But that was not the entire reason. Derek was very persuasive. And at once time she had loved him deeply. She knew he was going to try and talk her into going back and she didn't want to have to tell him no. That's why she had left the way she did, sneaking off silently without even a goodbye.

Reaching down, Rowan picked her bag back up. She told Morgan to get her some hot water going in the kitchen. There was a locked door between them and the kitchen, but he could get to it without going outside and risking being seen. Morgan nodded and left the room. Rowan knelt down next to the man, trying not to look at his face. Trying not to look at the aura around his head that was the same colors it had been the last time she saw him. The colors of the sunset, a little dimmer not that he was tired and hurt, but still the same blushing rainbow Rowan remembered.

She had forgotten how handsome Derek was. Maybe she had forced herself to forget. He had the type of skin that got nut brown in the summer, unlike hers that tended towards red under her freckles and peeling with sunburn. His facial features were strong and manly, high wide cheek bones and and prominent chin. The thin pointed nose that marked him clearly as being of native descent. His eyes were closed, but she knew when he opened them, they would be so dark they were almost black. Only the roughly carved W in the middle of his forehead served to mar his good looks.

The man had on a loose fitting green shirt, the belt Rowan knew he usually wore over his shirts to hold his weapons was gone. She wasn't sure if Morgan had taken it, or if Derek had to stop wearing it because of the injury on his side. The neckline of his shirt hung open, revealing his strong chest and the crystal he still had hanging around his neck. A gift Rowan had given him.

She pulled up the side of his shirt, sucking in her breath when she saw the filthy cloth, dark with dried blood and held into place with duct tape. Pulling as gently as she could, Rowan removed the tape and the crusty rag so she could get a look at the wound underneath. It was not a bite, as she feared it might be. Bites did not always turn her people, they seemed to have some natural immunities to whatever sickness caused the plague. But they could still fester and give the person a nasty infection if they were not cleaned out properly right away.

The wound was a cut, long and deep. She guessed the man had been cut with a knife or fallen against something sharp. It was red and the skin was warm to the touch around the edges, so Rowan knew she would have to draw the infection out first, before the wound could be stiched and left to heal. She put a handful of marigold petals and a few cloves of dried garlic in a bowl to wait for the hot water Morgan was bringing. That would be used to rinse out the wound. She would then pack it with more healing herbs to draw out the infection and give him some tea to drink to help with the pain and swelling. She got the items to make the tea out and put them in a different bowl.

Derek started to wake up. He let out a soft moan, rolling on to his injured side before Rowan could stop him, and then yelpling in pain. He rolled back onto his back and his eyes blinked open. Unlike the other men from her old group, that had been afraid of her at first, Derek only smiled when he saw Rowan. He reached for her face, realized his hands were still tied together and put them back down.

"My side hurts too bad for me to be dead," he said. His voice was deep and soft when he spoke to her, it was his bedroom voice. The one he only used when he spoke to her, and only when they were alone together. "So you must really be here." Rowan sat back on her heels, saying nothing to him. She had so many thoughts floating around in her mind, but could not put together a full sentence if her life depended on it.

"Hekaza," he said, his voice so soft it was almost pleading now.

"I don't go by that name anymore," she said, finally finding her voice.

"That's fine," he said, "I will call you anything you like. Rowan. Nizhoni..." Hekaza was Rowan's Indian name. It meant little deer. People, especially her father, liked to call her that because of her freckles. He thought they looked like the spots on the back flanks of a baby deer. Plus her big eyes and the way she ran away at the first sign of trouble, all added to the notion that she was deer-like. But Derek didn't call her that, he called her Nizhoni, or Honi for short. It meant beautiful in Sioux.

"Rowan is fine," she said, not wanting to be drawn down the path he was trying to take her. She could feel her hands shaking and she lifted them up, nervously tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ears. The tears were there, threatening to spill over and wet her cheeks. Blinking most of them back, she wiped the ones that slipped out with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," Derek told her then, his voice as shaky as she felt, "I just thought once you had my baby growing inside you, that you would forget about what happened and love me again." Taking that baby Rowan found from her and getting rid of it had been a terrible mistake. Her father told him to do it, and everyone was afraid of what would happen if they went against Grey Wolf. Especially Derek, who was scared the man would take Rowan away from him. In the end it had been listening to the man that caused Derek to lose the woman he loved, not disobeying him. After that day with the baby, things had never been the same between them.

"I did have your baby inside me," Rowan said, unable to stop the words that were spilling out of her, "that's why I left." The pain spread across his face like a cancer.

"Was it a boy, a girl, can I see it?," he pleaded, trying to get into a sitting position depsite his injury and the fact that his hands were bound. Rowan shook her head, placing one hand on his chest and pushing him back down against the mattress. The way he was moving about was not helping the weeping wound on his side.

"I lost it out on the road." That was the only explanation she offered. As angry as she still was with Derek, she could not bring herself to tell him that she made herself a strong tea and drank it to kill the life he had started growing inside her. She had been so full of anger and hate at the time, thinking of how he had forced himself on her. And she had also been afraid. Afraid of being pregnant and alone out there in the beyond. Afraid of having to watch her baby be devoured by the dead. Afraid of so many terrible things that she couldn't even begin to describe them even now.

"What's going on with the mark on your head?," Rowan asked. She had seen the same letter carved into the men's heads. Those had not been there the last time she saw them.

"Grey Wolf did it," Derek told her. Calling the man by that name meant Derek was speaking of him as the leader of the pack, not as Rowan's father. "After you left. Said he was marking us as part of the pack."

"...but really he was trying to make sure if people left they would have a harder time finding another group to take them in," Rowan said. Derek narrowed his eyes at her. What she said was true, but he was not yet ready to hear it. He looked at Rowan's father with something close to godlike worship. Derek never knew his father, and Grey Wolf had given him the love and sense of belonging that he had never had as a child. That's why he had refused to leave the group with Rowan when she asked him. That had been back before things went sour and ugly between them. And then it had been too late.

Thankfully, Morgan chose that moment to come back into the room with the kettle of boiling water. Rowan busied herself making the wash for Derek's wound and making the tea for his pain, her hands moving so quickly they looked like they were dancing. He was putting on a brave face, but she knew him well enough to know he was in a lot of pain. Morgan watched them both. The man had been making a lot of violent threats when Morgan spoke to him before. This was the first time he had seen any real emotion on the man's face and it gave him hope that maybe the man could come back from wherever this world had taken him.

"You two were part of the same group?," Morgan asked the man, hoping to open up some constructive dialogue.

"She's my wife," the man informed him, giving Morgan the same threatening look he had been giving him before. If Derek found out any of these fucking Wasichu had laid a hand on Rowan, that man would be losing that hand.

"Was," Rowan added, "I _was_ his wife." She said the words with conviction and a new strength that Derek did not recognize from the time he knew her before.

"You still are," Derek insisted. Rowan running away didn't change the fact that they were married. Her father had performed the ceremony himself. And she had said yes. She wasn't allowed to just change her mind.

"Do you want your cut cleaned out or not?," Rowan asked the man. She was quickly remembering the reasons why she had wanted to get away from him. And she was not having this stupid argument. If you could get married in the woods, then you could get divorced there too. And like that stupid song that Enid liked to listen to said, they were never ever getting back together.

Derek lay back. He was not enthused with the way Rowan was talking to him, but he did want the horribly painful cut on his side taken care of. When he was feeling better, and he and Rowan were well away from this place, then he would have a little chat with her about her newfound smart mouth attitude.

 **** I know the Taylor Swift song came out after the timeline for the apoclypse started on the show, but I used it anyway. After all the literature quotes and greek myths, I thought it would be fun to throw in a little pop culture reference. Thanks to anyone that took the time to leave a review and welcome to my new followers on this story. If anyone wants a visual on what Derek looks like I was looking at pictures of the actor that played Uncas in Last of the Mohicans, he was the brother to the main character in the movie. ****


	50. Chapter 50

Daryl's mouth fell open. When he realized who the man in front of him was, he could not disguise his shock. There was no doubt in his mind that the man was telling the truth. The familial resemblance between him and Rowan was plain as day. Especially his hair. This man had a few strands of silver running through his head, but Daryl had never seen hair that thick and shiny except on Rowan's head.

Daryl wasn't sure what to say to the man about Rowan. He had a strong urge to tell this man the truth. The whole truth in full detail. He also could not think of a reason to lie.

"She's alive," Daryl told the man. That seemed like a good place to start. But maybe the man didn't think so, since he pulled a sharp knife from the sheath on his waist and leaned towards Daryl with it. For a moment, Daryl was sure the man meant to stab him, but instead he cut the ropes that were holding Daryl's hands together. Daryl rubbed at his wrists, feeling the warmth returning to his hands. His eyes drifted towards his crossbow, just for a moment, then went back to the man in front of him.

"Try anything and I will gut you like a fish," the man told him. There is was again. A thicker version of the same accent Rowan had. Daryl nodded. He wanted to get back and make sure Rowan was alright, but he wasn't going to do anything stupid. "The dogs?," the man asked. If his daughter managed to make it this long with both her dogs alive, she must have figured out that she was as resourceful and strong as he always knew in his heart that she was. She would return to him like a phoenix from the ashes. Reborn. Stronger than she was before and ready to do the things she had not been ready to do before.

"Tank and Lily," Daryl said, "they are alright too." The man smiled slightly when he heard that. Since Daryl used the dogs names, the man knew he was telling the truth. He stared at Daryl for a little longer than Daryl felt comfortable with, then he got up and walked over by the fire, where he pulled a few pictures from a familiar looking back pack. He came back and handed the pictures to Daryl. They were the ones that Aaron liked to take on his recruiting missions.

"She has been living in this place?," the man asked Daryl. Once again, Daryl saw no reason to lie. These people had been outside their walls for some time now. Maybe even climbed over and snuck around inside.

"Yeah, she has been there for a while," Daryl said, "my group just came in a few weeks ago." The man nodded. He pulled the braid of Rowan's hair back out of his pocket and ran his fingers over it. Rowan would have only given a charm like this one to someone that she cared for deeply. He had a similar one once, but his had been copper colored, given to him by Rowan's mother. It had been lost somewhere, he didn't know where. Probably left behind at his home when he went for Rowan and her mother back at the beginning of the turn. He had been in a race with death, determined to get there in time to save them. Charms and keepsakes had not seemed important at the time.

"You sleeping with my daughter?," the man asked suddenly, his tone getting just a little more hostile. Daryl nodded. From the way the man was looking at the lock of hair in his hands, Daryl guessed he already knew the answer to his question anyway. He was starting to feel uncomfortable with the man's line of questioning, like the man was looking for a reason to kill him. And if he did, Daryl guessed he wasn't planning to be quick about it.

"She tell you she was married?," the man asked. He watched Daryl's face as he said the words. From the way the man's eyes widened, Rowan's father knew his daughter had not been forthcoming with that lovely bit of information. He had also gained another piece of information from Daryl. This man was in love with his daughter. That did not come as a surprise. Rowan, like her mother before her, was easy to love. Almost every man she ever met had been dying of love for her after the first kiss, and some had been smitten before she even touched them. Rowan loved them all, but not the same way they loved her. If she had given this man her charm, that meant he was not just another dalliance to her. She must love him in return. Real love, not just a passing infatuation. And that could be useful to her father. He just wasn't sure how yet.

"Married?," Daryl repeated. Rowan was not married. And if these assholes had forced her into some sort of arranged marriage, that didn't count for shit as far as he was concerned.

"Married," the man repeated. Then he gestured for the pregnant woman to come closer. She moved quickly to comply. "Watch him," Rowan's father told her, handing her his knife. As the man was getting up, Daryl heard the crunch of the leaves that meant people were approaching. Rowan's father must have heard them before he did, or maybe seen them approaching behind Daryl's back.

Daryl looked around the camp again. He knew he could overpower the woman easily, and probably get away. But the problem was, he had no idea of where he was or which way would lead him back to Alexandria. Since these people did not seem like they planned to kill him immediately, he decided to stay put and wait this out. He didn't really want to admit it, but he was also curious about Rowan's father. The love for his daughter was plain as the nose on his face. Daryl was careful to remind himself that this same man had most likely taken part in tying a woman to a tree and torturing her to death less than two days ago.

There was a flurry of intense conversation. Daryl couldn't understand most of it, since they were speaking in broken english mixed in with words he knew now were sioux. Or at least some bastard version of that language. Some of it even sounded like it might be spanish. These guys had the indian act down pat, but Daryl was willing to bet that the closest any of them had come to a buffalo was on the games at the casino. As hungry as the women looked, these men were not very good hunters, that much was certain.

The pregnant woman sitting near him was looking more and more afraid, so Daryl guessed that whatever news the men had brought was not good. Rowan's father sounded angry. Angry and maybe a little scared. But he was hiding his fear well. Once he got done talking to the men, he walked over towards another very pregnant looking girl that was sitting near the fire. The one that was wrapped up in Daryl's leather jacket. The man knelt down and put his hand on the girl's shoulder, saying a few quiet words to her. The girl looked young, too young to be knocked up, in Daryl's opinion.

Whatever Rowan's father said to her, it made the girl break down completely. She was sobbing into his shoulder, really letting go. Young or not, Daryl guessed she had just found out that the father of her baby was dead. And she must have loved him, because words could not describe how sad and heartsick she looked. A man with a mohawk knelt down next to them, taking the girl from Rowan's father's arms and holding her in his lap. It was hard to tell, since the entire group had similar coloring and facial features. But from the way the man with the mohawk was holding the crying girl, Daryl guessed the man was her brother or some other close family member.

Once the girl was a little more calm, the man with the mohawk pulled out a small jar of baby food and handed it to her. He had another one for the pregnant woman who was babysitting Daryl. The jar was full of baby carrots, not the most appetizing lunch. Daryl had been around people when they were feeding Judith enough times to know that baby food was nasty, and usually smelled as bad as it tasted. This did not deter the woman, she cranked the jar open and started spooning the nasty gunk into her mouth with her fingers. She did not stop until every last smear of the stuff was gone.

"Got a deer yesterday," Daryl told the woman. He saw her head pop up, one finger still in her mouth. Several of the other people sitting near the fire looked his way as well, more than mild interest on their faces.

"You are going to give it to us?," the woman asked. She had been warned not to converse with this man, but a whole deer sounded too good to pass up.

"I will trade it to you," Daryl offered.

"What do you want?," the man with the mohawk piped up.

"He wants to be let go," Rowan's father announced like the rest of them were idiots. For Daryl's benefit, he spoke to them in english.

"I would like my bow back too," Daryl said, hoping that he wasn't pushing his luck. "I could trade you some eggs for it, and maybe a chicken..." He tried to think of what else Rowan had out in her area. She had tons of garden vegetables. "Or maybe some food from the garden," he said hopefully. These people looked hungry as hell. Just the promise of food might be enough to get him out of here.

Rowan's father came over and crouched in front of Daryl again, looking at him in the strange way Rowan sometimes did. Daryl felt like the man could see right through him. But Daryl was not afraid. Because he was not lying. He would be more than happy to give these people all the food they wanted, if they would go away and leave him and Rowan in peace. Seeing those hungry pregnant girls was sickening. Daryl felt bad for them, he wanted to help them. If he didn't already know that these people were bloodthristy lunatics that had attacked Noah's home and killed everyone there, plus just probably just got done attacking Alexandria, he would have taken them back with him as new recruits. As it was, he would still give them some food in exchange for his freedom.

"I will take your food," the man told Daryl, "and I will give you your freedom." There was a long pause, and Daryl could tell that was not all the man had to say. "But there's something else I want."

"What?," Daryl asked. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. What would any man in his situation want?

"I want my daughter back."


	51. Chapter 51

Seeing Derek again was hard, but not as difficult as Rowan had always imagined it would be. In a weird way, it had been a liberating experience. She was not the same girl he knew. He no longer had power over her. Rowan didn't need him to shelter her from the horrors of the world now, not like she had needed him before. She made him some medicinal tea and left, feeling unsure about what they were going to do with him once her healing medicine worked. Morgan was determined he could reason with the man, but Rowan knew better. In the hope of getting loose, Derek would tell Morgan anything he wanted to hear. Once the ropes were off, Derek would do whatever was best for Derek.

The dogs ran out the door in front of her, barking at Carol, who was hurrying down the steps from the infirmary. Rowan was instantly nervous that the woman was going to start questioning her, but Carol just took off down the street in the other direction. Rowan felt a tap on her shoulder and jumped at the touch.

"What were you doing down there?," Rick asked once she turned around and backed a few steps away from him.

"Yoga," she said, the first lie that came into her mind popping right out of her mouth. Rick gave her an odd look but didn't ask her anymore questions. Rowan's face looked flushed and she seemed nervous. Carol said she had seen the woman go down into that basement apartment with Morgan a little while ago. If something was going on between the two of them, Rick did not want to know about it. When it came to people's personal lives, he had enough of his own problems to worry about.

"I need to talk to you," he told the woman. She nodded, but gave him a questioning look.

"What for?," Rowan asked. She could tell he didn't like being questioned. Rick was used to the people in his group obeying him without question. Like her father. But not as crazy. Well, she hoped not at least.

"To ask you a few questions about your old group," he told her. Rowan fiddled with the strap on her messenger bag and for a moment, she looked like she was thinking about taking off running. Rick was tired and chasing Daryl's girlfriend around town all night was not his idea of a good time. He took a step towards her, reaching out for her arm. Tank darted in front of her, growling loud and showing Rick his teeth. Not wanting to suffer the same fate as Pete, Rick quickly backed up and put his hand down.

"Will Deanna be there?," Rowan asked him. She would answer his questions, but she was not interested in being alone with the man. He seemed alright, but that didn't mean she trusted him. Carol had already openly accused her of helping the men that had attacked the town. If Rick didn't believe what she had to say, he might get angry with her. Maybe he would try to hurt her.

"She can be," Rick said. He had not been planning on having Deanna around when he talked to Rowan, but he figured it wouldn't do any harm. He had not been around Rowan a lot, but he had seen enough to know she was nervous and jumpy around most men. She might say more if Deanna was there to make her feel more comfortable.

"Okay," Rowan said. She glanced up the stairs that led into the infirmary, feeling queasy all of the sudden when her stomach had felt fine a few minutes ago. "Let me check on Daniel, and then I will go with you." Rick nodded. Without really being invited, he followed Rowan and her dogs up the steps. If she was going to talk to the man from the other group, Rick wanted to see their interaction. And hear what they were saying. Carol had it in her mind that Rowan was some sort of a wolf spy. But he was not so sure. He knew Michonne thought Carol was dead wrong. She liked Rowan and trusted her. And he was inclined to believe her. Michonne's trust was not an easy thing to earn.

As she walked through the door, Rowan heard another door inside the place click shut. Denise came into the room, carrying another stack of books. She set them down on a counter. Rowan leaned around the small partition that was set up to separate the area where the cots were from casual view. Daniel looked like he was asleep.

"How is he?," Rowan asked.

"Fine," Denise told her. "I just checked his vitals before I left to get my books." She gave Rowan a smile and then she glanced at Rick. "Can you give me a key to those cuffs for when he needs to go to the bathroom."

"I don't want him wandering around loose," Rick said. Actually, Rick did not want the man here at all. He deserved to die for what he did. But Rick wanted to give Deanna a chance to make that decision. He could always kill the man later if she decided to do something stupid like exhiling him.

"Maybe you would like to come by a few times a day and clean out his bedpan then?," Denise suggested to him. Rowan gave Rick a big smile, waiting to see what he was going to do. The mental picture she was getting made her want to giggle. Rick got the key to the cuffs out of his pocket and handed it to Denise without any further objections. After all, the man did have a broken ankle. How far could he go?

"I want him cuffed at all times unless he is using the bathroom," Rick told the doctor, or whatever she was. At the moment she seemed more interested in staring at Rowan than she did in talking to him. Denise realized Rick noticed her looking at the other woman and she blushed, looking down at her feet instead. She found Rowan attractive. But mostly she just thought the woman was interesting. With her background, she like a case study. Someone that had grown up without the societal pressures that everyone else had. One day she would love to sit down with Rowan and pick her brain about her life growing up and what it had been like.

Rowan signaled her dogs to stay before she headed around the small partition. Walking towards Daniel's bed, she had that same funny sick feeling in her stomach again. She focused on him, thinking at first she couldn't see his aura because her encounter with Derek had thrown her internal balance off. But when she took a breath and focused again, it still wasn't there.

There was another man lying on a cot nearby, Rowan looked at him. She was able to see his aura right away. He was sick, so it had a tinge of grey to it, but it was still there. Daniel's was not. Rowan picked up his hand and felt his wrist. His hand felt like a dead fish and she didn't like the way his skin felt against hers. When she let go of his hand, it flopped on the bed next to his body. She was starting to feel the panic rise up inside her and she leaned down to place her head on his chest.

"Denise!," Rowan called out to the woman, "He's not breathing!" Denise rushed over, grabbing up the man's wrist like Rowan had done. She racked her brain, trying to think about what could have gone wrong. He only had a broken ankle, and not even a bad break. She was sure with only that injury, she would be able to keep him alive. Maybe he had some sort of internal injury that she had missed. People were not going to trust her to take care of them if she killed every patient that came into the infirmary.

"Move," she said, shoving Rowan out of the way. Then she started pumping at the man's chest. She stopped to lean down and breathe into his mouth. When she let go and started pumping at his chest again his head rolled to one side. There was large spot of blood under his head where his ear had been. Denise stopped her CPR. This man had not even hit his head very hard. She had checked him for a concussion, several times. He had none of the signs that her book said meant head trauma.

Rowan was clinging to the metal rail at the end of the bed, feeling more and more hopeless. His spirit was long gone. Denise was working on a dead man. Now the doctor was standing back, staring at Daniel's body and looking very confused. Rowan approached, touching him gently. She turned his head so she could get a better look where the blood was coming out. His ear was cut, and there was a small straight gash there that the blood had been trickling out of. Rowan had not heard him coming, but suddenly Rick was next to her. He took hold of Daniel's head, turning it and examining the wound.

"It looks like a stab wound," he said, talking mostly to himself. Then he started cursing. He had a pretty good idea of who snuck into the infirmary and stabbed this man in the head. The same person he had seen running out when he had been walking up to talk to Rowan. Carol. He cursed again. He agreed with her that the man ought to be killed, but this was not the way to get that done. She couldn't just go around stabbing people in the head, he thought she learned her lesson after the whole swine flu situation. But clearly she had not.

"Why would someone stab him?," Rowan asked. She felt like she was ready to start crying again, but she just didn't have any more tears left. Maybe the wolves were right, maybe these people were wendigo. Wendigo, prounouced with a Z at the beginning instead of a W, was the word her father used for horrible selfish people. People that took more they needed without regard for others or for the great earth spirit Manitou. Her father said all white men, or Wasichu as he prefered to call them, were Wendigo, but Rowan did not believe him. Mostly because her mother was not wendigo. The people she grew up with had been kind and generous. But maybe Grey Wolf had been right about the people that were left alive in this new world. Rowan's father had done a lot of terrible things, but even he had more honor than to sneak up on an injured man and stab him in the head.

"I know people thought he might be dangerous," Denise added, "but it's really not ok for them to just come in here and stab my patients in the head." She knew the man had been with the people that attacked the town, but he had made no further attempts to hurt anyone else. And from the way he had destroyed his food when she gave him something to eat, Denise was inclined to believe his story about the people in his group being about to starve to death.

Rick took the sheet and pulled it up over the man's head. He wasn't really sure what to say. One more body to bury. He just felt numb to all of it. And he was going to have to figure out what to do about Carol now. Rowan backed up a step. Then she took off running, her braids and the fringe on her long skirt flinging out behind her. She yanked the door open and whistled for her dogs, taking off down the street with them running beside her. Rick followed her as far as the porch and then he just stood on the steps, watching her disappear down the street and around the corner.


	52. Chapter 52

Her bag was packed. She was as ready as she was going to get. Like the night she used Daryl's hanky to put the love spell on him, Rowan only needed to wait for the cover of night. That left her plenty of time to think. About what she was about to do. And about how stupid and reckless it was. About her options. She could just tell Rick that she and Morgan had Derek hidden. She could wash her hands of this whole mess and give it to Rick and Deanna to deal with. But she already promised Morgan she would help him.

It was more than her promise driving her forward. The promise was important to her, because she had made it to Morgan, who Rowan considered to be one of the most selfless people she had ever met. But it was so much more than that. Since Daryl saw her bathing in the lake, just like her father had seen her mother all those years ago, Rowan had the feeling that this was all so much more than coincidence. Life was not a straight line. It was one big mess of entertwining circles. And Rowan's circle was finally coming around to the end, which also meant it was headed back to the beginning. Where everything started.

As she sat waiting, Rowan got her rune stones out. Feeling the weight of the stones through the soft fabric of the bag, she thought about what she was about to do, and the possible outcomes of such an action. Then she dumped the stones out onto the ground in front of her. The rune symbols were only carved on one side of the rocks. When they were dumped out, the symbols that were facing up would tell you your fortune. She stared at the stones, blinking her eyes a few times, unable and maybe a little unwilling to believe what she saw. Not one symbol was visible. Every single stone had landed face down in the dirt. She had grown up sitting on her mother's knee, watching her cast the stones. Not once in all that time had she ever seen the stones land this way.

Rowan stared at the rocks, worn smooth with years of use and being held in the hand. The first thing she thought was that she was going to die. Holding her hand out, she focused on the aura around it. It was still there, but she wasn't sure if she would be able to see her own aura disappear before she died. She looked at the rocks again, picking one up and holding it in her hand, running her thumb over it a few times before she flipped it over.

The rock she held in her hand was blank on the other side as well, Odin's Rune. Not everyone that used rune stones kept a blank one in the mix. But Rowan did. To her Odin's Rune had always meant that anything was possible. It meant that her future was in her hands, to make of it what she would. She knew now, the stones were not telling her that she was going to die. Death was hovering close, always ready to take the lives of those that chose him. But tonight, Rowan would look him in the eye and tell him the same thing she told him when she had been starving to death in the back of that van, the last bit of food she had she already fed to her dogs, her stomach cramping painfully as she lost the baby that Derek had made inside her. Not today.

Though she had felt like it more times than she cared to count, Rowan was not Cassandra. She was stronger than that. Rowan knew now that Cassandra's curse had never really been about the fact that other people would not believe her when she told them the truth. Her real curse was that Cassandra had not believed enough in herself.

"Are you sure you want to do this?," Rowan asked Morgan. Night had come, and only a sliver of moonlight shone through the window in the door, casting a goulish glow on both their faces. Morgan reached up, cupping her face in his palm for just a fraction of a second. Their eyes met and locked. The way Rowan was looking at him, testing his resolve, even in the dim light he felt like she could see right through him. Lily's body was warm against his leg as she tried to snuggle, maybe feeling a little remorse for biting the man earlier that day Or maybe she was hoping for a treat, with Lily it was always hard to say.

"I can do this alone," Morgan told her. He didn't sound convinced. They both knew he needed her help.

"No. You can't."

Rowan stood still a moment, giving the man one more chance to change his mind. What they were doing was stupid and dangerous. And that was if they didn't get caught. There was a chance Morgan might die tonight. And she wanted to make sure the choice was his. He gave a slight nod with his head, and Rowan nodded back. There was nothing else to say.

Approaching Derek's small bed, she knelt down and opened up her bag. First she pulled out a knife and cut the ropes that bound his wrists. Tank was next to her, watching the man. Rowan could tell by how hard the dog's body felt that he could feel the tension in the air. Derek reached out and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her, but he stroked Tank's head instead, which the big dog allowed. She clicked on a small electric lantern and set it on the ground next to her. Then Rowan pulled out a small glass vial of medicine that she had stolen from the infirmary. Antibiotics. Holding the cap to the syringe in her teeth, she pulled out what she had read on Denise's little cheat sheet was an accpetable dose of the medicine.

"Pull your pants down," she told the man. "I need to be able to see your thigh, not that," she added quickly after Derek exposed himself to her. Rowan adjusted the small lantern and prepared herself to plunge the needle into his thigh.

"Do not fucking close your eyes while you are sticking me with that thing," Derek said, his voice teasing but with a serious edge to it. Rowan hated needles, he was surprised to see she was even willing to hold one in her hand. It gave him hope. If was willing to go this far to make sure he didn't die from an infection, she must still care for him. Rowan cringed but did not shut her eyes as she stuck him with the needle, pushing the plunger down and then yanking it back out. She put the cap back on the needle and wrapped it and the medicine back up before she put them in the small case. She held up a bottle of medication.

"Take three of these a day. Take the whole bottle. Do not stop taking them in two days because your cut is looking better," Rowan told him. Derek nodded. "I am going to stitch up your wound now." Putting the bottle of pills away, she pulled out a small suture kit, also stolen. Derek did not ask her any questions. He turned on his side and pulled up his shirt, puting his hand in his mouth to keep himself quiet. It took five stiches, but she got his wound cleaned and closed up. Without the antibiotics, she would have had to draw the infection out before she stiched it up. But with them, he would be fine.

Rowan handed him a small bag. Inside was food, some clean water, and the medicine. She stuffed the syringe and the rest of what was in the glass vial inside too, in case he needed another shot.

"Where are we going?," he asked her.

"You are going back to your group. We are taking you there," Rowan told him. The original plan was to let Derek stay until he was fully recovered. But then Daniel had been stabbed in the head. It was not safe for them to keep Derek here. So Morgan wanted to take him back to his people.

"My group?," Derek asked, "You mean our group?" Rowan was crazier than she looked if she thought she was just going to drop him off and walk away. Her father would never allow that. And for that matter, neither would he. If she thought this black wasichu was going to be able to protect her from the entire wolf pack, she had another think coming. Derek had seen that fucker, his hands all over Rowan. Touching her face like they were lovers. Before Derek just wanted to kill the man, now he was going to make sure he died slow.

"Can you walk?," Rowan asked, ignoring his comment. Derek nodded. Then he allowed the wasichu to touch him. Morgan and Rowan grabbed Derek's hands and got him onto his feet. Derek made sure to stumble around a little bit, acting like he was dizzy. He even threw his arms around the black man's shoulder like he needed help walking. Really he felt great. Better than he had in weeks. He had a belly full of these people's food, and he had drank all that willow bark tea Rowan made him. This was the best his side had felt since he cut it climbing inside that stupid abandoned car.

The hardest part was going to be getting out the front gate. With an injured man, plus the dogs, they were not going to be able to go over the wall, so the only option was to go straight out through gate. Spencer was on duty. Which was lucky, since Rowan knew she could talk him into letting them out.


	53. Chapter 53

"If we get you back to the cabin you were in behind the lake, can you tell us how to get to your camp from there?," Rowan asked Derek. He nodded, wondering how Rowan knew he had been at that cabin. Then it came to him. That day he found that cabin, he had followed the sound of a dog barking that he swore sounded like Tank. The dog was Tank. Rowan must have been hiding out there watching him.

The thought of Rowan hiding from him, made Derek feel a strange mix of both anger and remorse, with most of the anger being directed at himself. She was right to hide from him after what he had done to her. But he planned to make things right by her. He might have to compel her to stay with him at first, but it was for her own good. She would understand that eventually.

Rowan and Morgan had Derek supported between them, helping him down the uneven path that led to the lake. Rowan could feel the side of his body pressed against hers, his arm around her shoulders. She felt the urge to recoil from his touch, but she stood her ground. If touching him for a few minutes meant she would never have to see him again, she could do it. The gun Spencer made her take felt heavy inside her woven messenger bag. The bag swung and jostled with her movements, and the gun kept bumping against her hip, as if to remind the woman that it was there. For once Rowan was glad she had a gun with her, though she still hoped she would not have to use it.

The night was cool and quiet, making the sound of the leaves crunching under their feet sound as loud as a stampede. Rowan could hear the dogs breathing as they lumbered along behind her, but not much else. Something about what she was hearing struck her as odd. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was off. Something was wrong. Then it hit her. Derek was supposedly in terrible pain. He needed help walking. So why was his breathing so slow and even? Like he was relaxing in a chair instead of tramping through the woods.

Derek was faking. She knew it. He could walk just fine on his own, he was only pretending to need their help. Before Rowan could figure out what to do about her sudden realization, Tank let out a low growl in his throat.

"Walkers," she hissed. Morgan eased out from under Derek's other arm and got both hands on his staff. Then they heard the dead coming. It was too much noise for it to only be one or two. Most of the herd got led away, but a smaller group of them must have broken off and headed for the lights and noise of Alexandria. This was more than they were going to be able to take on, especially in the dark with only three of them and the dogs. Morgan hit the two closest walkers with his stick, knocking them down.

"The cabin," Rowan called to him, knowing there was no point in keeping quiet now that the walkers were already on to them, "we can hide there."

Morgan went ahead, clearing the path in front of them, one arm still around Derek's waist. Rowan felt the twist of Derek's body too late. He grabbed the knife she had on her belt and snatched it from the sheath. Rowan took a step back. She stepped down in a gopher hole, nearly twisting her ankle. She would have fallen back and been taken by the herd if Derek had not gotten a good grip on her arm and yanked her back. He stabbed the walker that he had seen coming at them and then flipped the knife around, handing it back to Rowan handle first.

"Did you really think I was going to stab you?," he asked her. Rowan wasn't sure what to think. He had startled her, that was for sure. And he still had her by the arm. Plus he was faking being hurt for whatever reason he had. She grabbed her knife back and kept a tight grip on it.

"Come on, I can see the cabin up ahead," Morgan called back to them.

They made it inside. There were a lot more walkers following them than Rowan had realized. Morgan and Derek were pushing things against the doors and windows while she tried to stop her dogs from barking at the snarling mass of death outside. One of the windows broke in, the sound of shattering glass made Rowan shriek. She held onto Lily to keep her from charging over and cutting her feet up on the shards of glass. There were just too many of them out there. The herd was going to tear this whole cabin down with her and the dogs still inside.

Rowan knelt down, scrambing around on the floor, looking for the lip of the trap door that she knew was there. When she found it, she grabbed at it in a panic, one of her fingernails ripping down to the quick. Lily ran down the steps first, Tank hesistating at the opening to make sure Rowan was coming with him. She did, shoving the big dog down the steps in front of her.

When she hit the bottom of the steps, Rowan felt for the thin dangling chain, yanking it so hard she nearly pulled it loose. The small area exploded with light. After her eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the moon outside, she was momentarily blinded. Turning back towards the stairs, Rowan shaded her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief to see Morgan coming down first, with Derek close behind him. She had been afraid that Derek might dart in and shut the other man out, locking the door behind him.

"You okay?," Morgan asked her, "Your hand?" Rowan looked down at her hand. There was some blood smeared on her fingers, but it was just from her ripping her nail off. She had done worse to her hands climbing trees.

"I'm okay," she said, "I just ripped my nail opening the door." Morgan nodded, looking relieved. He was afraid in the chaos that Rowan might have been bitten. He closed the distance between them and took her hand in his, checking her injury. She was right, it looked worse than it was.

"She said she was fine," Derek informed the other man. His tone was low, but still threatening. Rowan snatched her hand back and stepped away from Morgan, suddenly feeling like she had been caught doing something wrong. Derek gave her a look of approval and then headed for the wall, looking at the shelves full of food and supplies. He had his hand on his side, like it was hurting him, and Rowan could tell he wasn't faking his injury this time. She could see a small spot of blood on his shirt where his hand was.

"Sit down," she told him, "I think you pulled a stitch." Derek did as she asked, eager to have her touching him again, even if it was only to check his injury. He had pulled a stitch, but only one. She patched the man up quickly and then backed away from him. Eager to break the thick tension between them in the small room, she turned her attention to the food that was lining the walls.

"Any peaches?," Derek asked her. He offered her up a warm smile that he hoped might be reciprocated. Rowan loved canned peaches. When he used to go on runs, he would always try and find her a can. If not peaches, he would look for mandarin oranges. If given the chance, she could eat a whole can of them to herself. And not one of the small sized cans either, the big economy sized ones. For a skinny girl, she could really pack in when she wanted to. When he lay down with her at night, her fingers and lips would taste like citrus.

The spring before last, when the wolves had been further south, they camped for a few weeks in an orange grove. Rowan and Takoda had themselves a grand old time, climbing up the trees and throwing overripe fruit at each other, Grey Wolf hollering at them that they better stop. That they were making Tank bark and he was going to bring every walker on earth down on them with his loud ass howling. Rowan had terrible aim, so Takoda had come out of the battle mostly unscathed, but Rowan had been covered in the sticky slop from head to toe. She had chased everyone around after that, trying to hand out sticky orange juice coated hugs to all of them. That was back when the end of the world still felt like one big adventure. Before every other group of people that they met tried to kill them and rape their women. Before Grey Wolf decided they were going to stop giving people the chance to attack them first.

Rowan pulled a can of peaches off the shelf and set it on the table in front of Derek with a thump. She found a can opener and slapped that down as well. She didn't say anything, she just stood there quietly for a moment. Then she rushed away into the next room. Sitting down on the bed, Rowan called Tank up to sit with her so she could hold him close. The cot groaned a little under his weight, but it held. She pulled off her bag, the weight of the gun making it flop down hard onto the floor. She shoved it partway under the bed and lay down on the cot with her arms around Tank. The dog was warm and his fur was soft, she snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes, telling herself that she was only going to rest there for a minute.

Morgan took a few cans of food for himself, and a bottle of water. He sat at the table across from Derek, both of them eating in silence. He wasn't sure how Rowan knew this bunker was here, but they had been lucky it was. The herd outside the cabin was too many for him to fight, and they would have torn the place apart to get inside. There was nothing to do now but wait for the walkers to get bored and wander away. On the bright side, at least they had something to eat and drink while they were waiting.

Morgan finished his food and went into the next room to check on Rowan. She was fast asleep, her cheeks flushed pink under her freckles, her lips slightly parted, looking more like a young child than the woman that she was. Her back was to the wall and her arms were around her big black dog, who opened one eye to peer up at Morgan as the man approached. Morgan ran his hand over Tank's fur, petting him. Then he took the blanket from the foot of the bed and used it to cover both the woman and the beast. When he looked up, Morgan saw Derek standing in the doorway. His dark eyebrows were knitted together, and his jaw was clenched. He crossed his arms, the left side of his jaw twitching.

"There are some cots we can use, under the shelves in the other room," Morgan told the man, in case he had been thinking that Morgan was going to try and climb into bed with Rowan. Morgan liked Rowan, but not in a climb into her bed kind of way. She was his friend. Not his lover. Trying to see the positive in the situation, Morgan hoped that if Derek was looking out for Rowan, it meant that the man might still have a bit of humanity left inside him. Maybe he was not as far gone as Morgan had been when Eastman found him.

Derek did not respond to Morgan. He was too busy fighting the poweful urge he had to grab the man and squeeze his neck until he choked every last bit of life out of him. Derek had seen the man, leaning over Rowan's peaceful sleeping form, thinking about what he wanted to do to her. Maybe even thinking about whatever she had already let him do. But now was not the time to deal with Morgan. That time would come soon enough. Derek turned his back on the man and headed for the shelves. He opened the small bag Rowan had given him and started stuffing things into it.

Morgan followed Derek into the other room. He saw the man taking things, but since he was only grabbing food and medication, Morgan left him alone. He pulled one of the rolled up mats out from under the shelf and took it back into the other room. Spreading it out on the floor, Morgan lay down on it, keeping his staff close to him.

Seeing a more desirable sleeping spot than the on concrete floor next to the cot Rowan and Tank were sleeping on, Lily got up and trotted over. She made herself welcome on the mat next to Morgan, half smothering and half shoving the man off onto the floor. After some adjusting, Morgan found lying next to the warm animal was more comfortable than he would have thought. He tried to stay awake, but once he heard Derek's snores coming from the mat the man had rolled out for himself, Morgan allowed the stress of the day to finally hit him. Soon he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

Rowan awoke to the loud clang of Morgan's boots on the ladder that led up into the yard outside the cabin. There was no natural light down in the bunker, and for a moment she felt completely disoriented, unsure if she had been asleep for only a few minutes or the entire night. Lily shoved her wet nose in the woman's face, making a high pitched whining noise that Rowan knew meant the dog needed to go outside and relieve herself. That meant Rowan must have slept all night. She pushed the dog's nose out of her face and swung her legs off the cot.

"Are they gone?," she asked Morgan, seeing that the noise she heard was him climbing back down the ladder. He nodded. There were one or two walkers still milling around, but the rest of them had moved off. Probably towards town, which was fine since the walls would keep them out.

"Good, 'cause Lily needs to pee and so do I," Rowan announced, smoothing down the little curls of hair that had escaped her braids while she slept. She headed for the staircase, passing by Derek. He was sitting at the table, eating a jar of applesauce. The bag she had given him was on the table, stuffed to the brim with what mostly looked like food. The medical supplies she had given him were sitting next to the bag. She figured he didn't want the syringe or the little glass vial of antibiotics to get broken under the weight of the heavy canned goods.

"You could take the pillow cases off the pillows on the cot and fill those up too," Rowan suggested to him. Take all the food. Or at least make sure to take enough to get you far away from here, she thought to herself. And don't ever come back. Heading up the stairs, she opened the trap door just a fraction and peeked around the cabin to make sure it was walker free. Then she tossed the door open and headed outside the cabin into the grass.

Morgan was right. There were only a few walkers left, and he had made short work out of almost all of them. Tank took down the last one that was shuffling around and Rowan stabbed it in the head with her knife. She knew there was no one really around, but she still headed into the woods and ducked behind a bush before she pulled her long skirt up and squatted down. Lily did her business in a hurry as well, while Tank ran around lifting his leg on as many trees or bushes in the area as he could before Rowan snapped her fingers to call the big dog back to her.

"This isn't home silly boy," Rowan told the dog, ruffing up the fur around his wrinkly face and then scratching him on the top of the head, "no reason to be getting all territorial." There were few things in the world Tank liked doing as much as he liked marking his territory. Her trailer, the ground around the teepee, and even Enid's tent had all been marked, along with the outsides of Aaron and Deanna's houses. Eric tried washing his house after, but the dog would not be deterred from his mission. Every time Eric washed the house, Tank would go right back over there, being sure to piss on every spot that had been cleansed of his scent.

As she headed back down the steps inside the cabin, shutting the door behind her, Rowan felt her stomach growling. She had skipped dinner the night before, and not had much to eat before that. Plus, if she was hungry, she bet her dogs were starving. She was sure she had seen some nasty canned meats down on those shelves that she bet Lily would like. If not, she would find something else to feed the dog.

Halfway down the stairs, Rowan stopped. She heard a weird noise coming from the bunker below. It was like a grunting, then a sort of strange thumping sound accompanied by a soft wet smacking. Whatever it was, it sent a chill up her spine. The taste of blood filled her mouth and she had the sudden urge to turn and run back up the stairs.

The dogs ran ahead, stopping at the bottom of the stairs like they were not sure what to do. Rowan went after them. Her legs were moving, but she felt detached from her body. It was moving on its own like she was nothing more than a puppet on strings. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, standing as still as the dogs. Now she could smell the blood in the air. Morgan was on the floor, bleeding from his head. Not enough to kill him, but he had been hit with enough force to render him unconcious. At first it looked like Derek was punching him, bringing his fist down and pounding it into the other man's stomach. But the next time he raised his fist in the air, Rowan saw the glimmer of the needle. He was not punching Morgan, he was stabbing him over and over again in the gut with the same needle Rowan had used to inject him with antibiotics. Derek was not just killing the man. He was making sure Morgan died the slowest and most painful death possible.

A small sob came up, catching in her throat and choking her. Then she ran, not back up the stairs, but around the men on the floor and into the next room. She dove for her bag, ripping it out from under the bed and dumping the contents onto the floor, looking for the gun she had hidden inside. There was her water bottle, a small travel case of herbal medicines and bandages. Some dried food. Treats for the dogs. But no gun.

"Looking for this?," Derek asked her. He stood in the doorway, dangling the gun in front of her. Once she saw it, he tucked it into the back of his pants. Rowan scrambled backwards on her ass, her long skirt falling open and revealing her legs all the way to the top of her thighs. She rolled onto her knees and pushed up onto her feet. Turning with her back pressed against the wall, she remembered the knife on her belt and yanked it out, holding it in front of her. Choking on another sob she could feel her hands shaking so hard the tattoos on them became a blur. She was looking back and forth between Derek and the rumpled bedding on the cot, terrified of what he planned to do to her.

"I am not going to hurt you," Derek said. His voice was soothing, but the aura around him was tinged green with jealousy and deceit. He darted forward as quick as a snake, grabbing Rowan by the wrist and taking her knife from her. Unlike Pete, he didn't continue twisting her wrist. Once he had the weapon, Derek let go of her and backed away. Leaning down, he tucked the knife away in his boot. Then he put his hands up.

"I won't hurt you," he said again.

"You just hurt my wrist," Rowan spit back, rubbing at the spot where he grabbed her. She looked into the next room and quickly looked away, her eyes filling with tears. "Why did you have to hurt Morgan?," she asked. Morgan was her friend. And all he had wanted to do was help Derek get back to his people. Derek could have just hit him in the head and taken her. He didn't have to stab him like that. He didn't have to kill him.

"Its done now," Derek told her, "Lets go home." Rowan shook her head, pressing back harder into the wall and wishing the unyeilding concrete would open up and swallow her whole. Derek took a step towards her, but then Tank was there, growling at the man. Rowan dropped to her knees and threw her arms around the dog, scared that Derek might get the gun out of the back of his pants and shoot the best friend she ever had. Her tears filled her, blinding her as they spilled down her cheeks.

"Please don't hurt my dogs," she said. Her voice cracked and then she was sobbing so hard she couldn't speak. She felt Derek's hand, rubbing over her hair and then patting her softly on the back. She flinched away from him. "Don't you touch me!," she hissed through her tears. Derek removed his hand from her. He stood back up and walked into the next room. A few seconds later he reappeared with a long rope in his hands.

Choking back her sobs, Rowan stared up at him with wide frightened eyes. Her long lashes were wet with tears and her face was red and splotchy. She watched Derek, assuming he meant to tie her up and force her to go with him. But instead he did something worse. He made the soft clicking noise that all the wolves knew. Lily came running over to the man, her tail wagging. Derek handed the dog a bit of food he had in his other hand and then tied the rope securely to her collar. Rowan had no choice now but to go with him. She couldn't run away now without leaving Lily behind. And Derek knew her well enough to know that she would never go anywhere without her dogs.


	54. Chapter 54

****I know everyone is eager to hear about Daryl, he is still with Rowan's dad and what remains of the wolf pack and will be in the next chapter. Also I forgot to add the author's note on the last chapter, but there was a little nod to Game of Thrones in there. There's another one in this chapter too, but I think you would only catch this one if you read the books. As always thanks to everyone that took the time to leave a review. ****

She liked to think of herself as a mouse. A little grey mouse that could scurry from room to room without attracting notice. She listened in on private conversations, watched people in town when they thought no one was looking. Carol knew more about the residents of Alexandria than they knew about each other. She had watched Denise until she left the infirmary. Then she snuck in and killed the man that came with the group that attacked them. The wolves.

Getting close to him was easy. People did not see her as a threat. And killing him had been easy too. Just one hard plunge of her knife through the soft meat of his ear and into the brain as she was pretending to help him get more comfortable. He looked so peaceful afterwards. And now Deanna and Rick didn't have to worry about what to do with him. Really, they should have thanked her for doing their dirty work for them. Especially Rick.

Carol thought she and Rick were on the same page. Then instead of the thanks she deserved for killing that man, he threatened to exhile her again like he had done back at the prison. Well if she was going to be sent away for doing what needed to be done, she figured she might as well finish the job first.

She already got rid of the rest of the pack. Now she was going to get rid of their spy. Rowan. That little skimpy dressed hussy that had taken up with Daryl and got him wrapped around her finger before his dick was even dry. And it wasn't just Daryl either. Abe, Carl, even Rick had given the woman his trust far too easily. She couldn't just stroll in with a dirty milking goat and sleep her way into the inner circle. Even Michonne liked the girl. Carol was particularly disappointed in her. She thought Michonne was smarter than that.

After her rather unsatisfactory talk with Rick, Carol went back to the house. Back to her room. She took one of the guns that she had stolen from the armory. There were a few to choose from, since she had kept most of the bag she had taken during the wolves attack. She tucked a fully loaded one into the back of her pants and went looking for Rowan.

The dogs were problematic. There was no way Carol could sneak up on the woman with those dirty animals around. And she doubted Rowan would let her get close enough to stab her like that stupid wolf in the infirmary had done. Carol thought about confronting the traitor directly. But that had the possibility of getting very sloppy very quick. Carol had no interest in getting attacked by one of the woman's giant dogs. And Carl's little girlfriend was hanging around, washing Rowan's hair for her and helping her get the blood off her back and face. She was sure to make a fuss if she saw Carol do anything to her friend.

The thought of killing both girls had crossed Carol's mind briefly. She could have shot them both while they were bathing and hoped people would blame it on the wolves. The ones Morgan let go were still hanging around somewhere. But Enid was about the age that Sophia would be if she was still alive. The thought of hurting her made Carol feel sick to her stomach. So she decided to watch Rowan a while and wait for the right moment to make her move.

Carol sat near the little garden Rowan had growing. She pulled cherry tomatoes off a bush and popped them into her mouth. They were yellow and shaped like little pears. Slightly sweeter than a normal red tomato, they were juicy and popped in her mouth when she bit into them. Some orange flowers that Carol knew were edible were growing in between the bushy tomato plants. Rowan had some in the little wagon she brought up to the storage locker. The other women had snatched them up, saying they could be cooked like spinach or used in a salad. Carol took a few and chewed them slowly, watching the woman that had grown them while she fingered the gun in her lap.

She expected watching Rowan was going to be boring. But then the woman started packing a bag like she was taking off somewhere. Since she waited until Enid wasn't around to start packing, Carol started to get curious. Rowan stuffed her packed bag under a camping chair to shield it from casual view. Then she started off towards town. Carol held her breath as the woman walked past her, hoping the dogs would not catch her scent. Then she got up and followed the trio into town.

Rowan waited outside the infirmary, watching the people inside. Carol knew what she was doing, since she was standing in approximately the same spot Carol had stood to watch and wait for Denise to leave so she could run in and kill that man. From where Rowan was, she could see everything that was going on inside the infirmary through the windows. She waited until Denise came out, likely walking home for dinner. Then Rowan took off up the steps. Carol heard the jingle of keys as the other woman opened the door. Denise must have wised up after what happened earlier and started locking the door when she was gone. Rowan took the dogs inside with her, so Carol crept right up on the building's porch and watched the woman with her face pressed close to the window.

She was stealing. It was hard to tell exactly what she was taking, but it looked like antibiotics. A bottle of pills, a glass vial and a syringe. Rowan ran her finger down one of Denise's cheat lists until she found the information she was looking for. Then she stuffed the items into the small bag she was carrying and headed back towards the door. Carol leaped over the railing of the porch and hid in a bush, barely making it over in time to keep from being seen.

Instead of leading Carol directly to whoever the medicine was for, Rowan went back to her camp. She put the small bag with the medicine next to the bag she had packed. Then she just sat around for a while. The dogs wandered off to do whatever dogs did. Carol had an opportunity to kill Rowan then. But she did not take it. She was too curious now about what the woman was doing. And also a little afraid that the little whore had Daryl stashed somewhere. What if he was hurt and the medicine was for him? Carol decided to watch her a while longer and see where she went with her packed bag. Maybe she was going back to her real family to pass some information. If Carol caught Rowan spying red handed, it would erase the last bit of hesitation Carol had about killing her.

Rowan sat around a while. She did some weird business with a bag of rocks. She drank some tea and held a dirty looking handkerchief to her face, rubbing it against her lips and cheeks, sniffing at the thing like she was getting off on it. Not only was she a traitor and a spy, Rowan was a freaking weirdo too as far as Carol was concerned. She could not understand for the life of her what Daryl's interest was in this woman. If he wanted to get his rocks off, there were several of women in their group that would have been happy to oblige him. Including her. She wasn't ready to admit it, but she felt cast aside, like he had chosen this girl over her.

Finally the dark of night came. Not complete dark, but it would be soon. Rowan got up and grabbed the bag she had packed and the other one that had the stolen medicine inside it. She snapped her finger, calling her dogs to her and keeping them close. Then she headed back into town. From the way she was acting, Carol could tell the woman was nervous about someone seeing her. She headed for the stairs that led down into the basement area under the infirmary. Morgan was waiting outside for her. Carol could tell it was him since he had that dumb stick he carried around. He was good as using the thing, Carol would give him that, but why use such a primitive weapon when they had a whole room full of guns, bows and huge knives?

Rowan put her arms around Morgan, hugging the man against her for a moment before they went down the stairs together. Carol thought maybe they were meeting to fuck. The woman was wearing a skirt like she was dressing up special for someone. But that didn't make sense. If Rowan was only sneaking around with Morgan, she wouldn't need stolen medicine. They must have an injured person down in that apartment. And Carol now had a sneaking suspicion that it was not Daryl down there.

Carol waited. Her patience was rewarded when Morgan and Rowan came out with a man propped up between them. From the way they were helping him, Carol knew who the medicine had been for. Another one of Rowan's little wolf friends. This one was a lot bigger and more muscular than the one they had chained up in the infirmary. The question now was where the hell were they taking him? And how involved was Morgan in this whole plot? Maybe he was a wolf spy too. It was a little too convient that he had just happened upon Daryl and Aaron when they were in one of these people's traps. He had probably set the damn trap and then used them to gain access to Alexandria. He had flat out refused to kill any of them even when they were attacking the town, and in Carol's book that made him guilty of being a total fucking idiot in the very least.

Carol shook her head and swore under her breath as she watched Spencer. Deanna's moron son had not only not sounded the alarm on Rowan, Morgan and their special friend, he opened the damn gate right up for them. The idiot might as well rolled out a red carpet for the traitors while he was at it. Carol did not go out the front gate. She climbed the wall and went out that way, hurrying to catch up with the small group before she lost them in the woods.

Everything was going well for her until the walkers came. Thankfully the dogs were barking and Rowan started hollering at Morgan. That drew most of dead away from where Carol was hiding. Rowan also yelled about heading for a cabin, so Carol had some idea of where they were going. She had to move slow now, to keep from making noises that would attract the dead. But after about an hour, she found what she knew must be the cabin in question. A huge pack of walkers was swarming the place, and Carol thought about just watching as they ripped the place apart and killed the people inside. But in the back of her mind, she was afraid of the slim chance that Daryl might be inside waiting for them.

Carol headed back in the direction she had come. She circled around the lake until she was far enough away to make it safe. Lifting her gun in the air, she fired off two shots, one right after the other. Then she ran. It took her almost another half hour, but she made it back around to the small cabin. There were still about a dozen walkers outside the place, but most of them had moved off towards the noise of her gunshot.

The number of walkers was less, but still too many for Carol to take on alone. So she looked around for a tree with low hanging branches. Climbing up into the widest part of the tree, she made herself as comfortable as possible. She watched the cabin until her eyes started to feel heavy and then she fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, Carol woke to the sound of Morgan hitting walkers in the head with his staff. She was relieved to see him, having slept later than she meant to. Her back was sore from the uncomfortable postition she slept in, and her mouth felt dry. She expected to see Rowan and the wolf come out of the cabin after Morgan cleared the yard, but instead the man disappeared into a hole in the ground near where Carol was hiding, closing the hatch behind him.

"Sneaky bastards," Carol swore under her breath. Who knew how many of Rowan's group members were hiding down in that hole. That first attack might have only been an appetizer compared to what these people planned to dish out next. They were probably down there plotting their attack.

Carol was thinking about climbing down and trying to hear what was being said inside the bunker, but Rowan came out of the cabin with her dogs. Her dog knocked the last stray walker down and she stabbed it in the head, mumbling her apologies to the monster under her breath. She walked over, almost directly under the tree Carol was hiding in and squatted to relieve herself. Carol thought about dropping down on her, but there was still the issue of her dogs to deal with. The big black one had killed Pete, and all he had done was slap Rowan around a little.

Rowan took her dogs back into the cabin. Carol was thinking now that she might have found the wolves camp. She was trying to decide if she should wait and watch a while longer, or attack them herself. It would not be hard to set the cabin on fire. Then she could shoot them one by one as they came running out. Carol was also considering going back to town to get Rick and Abraham.

Before she could decide, Rowan and the tall man with the long black hair came back out of the cabin. The man had Rowan's light brown dog tied to a rope that he was using to lead her. Rowan had her brightly colored bag over her shoulder, but Carol noticed the woman was no longer armed. Her knife was gone, and Carol could see the buldge of a gun tucked into the back of the tall man's pants that she guessed was not his. The wolves had not had guns when they attacked Alexandria. Rowan was wiping at her eyes like she had been crying. And the man had fresh blood on his hands.

Climbing down from the tree with her body feeling stiff and painful, Carol jumped the last few feet to the ground. She stretched out her sore limbs and started off in the direction she had seen the couple take. It was harder than it had been with the cover of night to shield her, staying far enough back that they would not know she was there, but keeping close enough not to lose track of them. They walked for what felt like about two miles. There was a trail to follow, but not one that had seen much use. Once she could hear voices, Carol slowed down. She bent her knees, trying to get lower to the ground. Then she started trying to get close enough to hear what was being said.

Daring to get closer than she knew was really smart, Carol got the small group in view. She ducked behind a bush. Rowan and the tall man were there, along with a few other people that were obviously of native american descent. Rowan was hugging a woman with a large pregnant stomach. When they moved, another man came into view. Daryl. Carol felt her heart jump in her chest. He was alive, and he was with the wolves for some strange reason. Well he was sure to have a good reason for being here, Carol thought. There was no way Daryl was involved in the attack on Alexandria.

The next thing Carol felt was a knife being pressed against her throat as she was seized up by her hair.

"Drop the gun," a man's voice said, "or I will slash you dead right here." He had an odd sounding accent. Like Rowan's but thicker and less musical. There was no doubt in Carol's mind that the man meant what he said. She dropped her gun, watching as another man snatched it up. While the first man kept the knife to her throat, the other man took her knife and bag, patting her down for weapons. He was more rough with her than he needed to be, and when he stood up, she saw he was the man with the mohawk. One of the wolves that Morgan had let go.

"What are you doing out here?," the man asked her. Carol only stared at him, refusing to speak. The man slapped her across the face. Not hard enough to really hurt, but just enough to humiliate her.

"Just kill her," the man that had ahold of her said, "she's the bitch that killed Takoda."

"No," the man with the mohawk said, "Take her to Grey Wolf."


	55. Chapter 55

Daryl had a few more opportunites to run off, but he stayed put. He wasn't sure if he could explain why. It was not because they didn't seem threatening, though they really didn't. At least not towards him. Aside from the intial threats from Rowan's father, these people had made no move to hurt or molest Daryl in any way. After he made the offer about the deer, Rowan's father sat down with the other men and they started talking. Since they knew Daryl could not understand them, they spoke in front of him.

The pregnant girl was still watching him, but she seemed much more interested in the conversation that was going on near the campfire than she was in doing her job. She wasn't even holding onto the knife Rowan's father had given her. It was lying in her lap. Several times one of the men gestured in Daryl direction, and he heard Rowan's father use the name Hekaza a few times. Since he was waving around the lock of Rowan's hair while he said it, Daryl guessed that the name must be associated with her.

"Who's Hekaza?," Daryl asked the woman next to him. He was not sure if he was supposed to be talking to her, so he spoke quietly, as to not attract attention. The woman jumped, like she had forgotten he was there. Then she looked at him like he was the stupidest man on earth.

"What do you mean? I thought you knew her?," the woman answered. She scratched at the skin on her stomach through her shirt. "You had her charm."

"Rowan?," he asked. The woman nodded.

"Hekaza," she said, leaning closer so she didn't have to talk louder, "it's Rowan's tribe name..." Daryl nodded, finally understanding what was going on.

"Her name means little deer," the woman added, "because of her spots." The explanation made the corners of Daryl's mouth turn up before he could help it. If Rowan was going to have an indian name, Little Deer was about the most perfect one he could think of. The pregnant woman tilted her head to the side like a parrot and gave Daryl the stupid look again. "She never told you that?," she asked. Maybe this man did not know Rowan as well as Grey Wolf thought he did.

"Rowan tole me she knew someone named Hekaza, but she died," Daryl told the woman. When he saw the sad look his words put on her face, he immediately regretted what he said. People said Rowan ran away because she didn't want to be part of the pack anymore, but Nokake had never believed it until now. She had been sure her pack sister was out there somewhere, fighting to get back to the family.

"Sorry," Daryl whispered to her, not really knowing what else to say. The woman nodded, but made no further conversation with him. The words between the men by the fire were getting louder and a few of them were getting heated. The man with the mohawk stood up, pointing at the young pregnant girl, and then pointing to the woman sitting next to Daryl. He was yelling loudly at another man that had his long back hair tied up in a bun on top of his head.

Rowan's father let the men go at each other for a few minutes, but when it looked like the argument was going to get physical, he stood up. His words shut both men up right away. He pointed towards Daryl, making the man feel a little self concious. Then he spoke sternly to both of the men that had been arguing. Once he was done, the men got up and made a strange series of gestures, each taking the other's hand and touching it lightly to their foreheads. Then they started picking up their things, and putting their belts on. Gearing up.

The pregnant woman was starting to look excited. But then she gripped her stomach and sat back hard on her butt. Daryl wasn't sure if he should be putting his hands on her, but since she looked like she was about to faint or fall over, he got up on his knees and grabbed her under the armpits. Pulling her over, he set her against the tree he had been leaning on. Then he backed off. She was groaning and holding her stomach like it really hurt.

"Hey!," Daryl called over to the group of people by the campfire. When he had their attention, he gestured towards the woman. The other pregnant girl, the one wearing his leather jacket, hurried over and knelt down next to her friend. Rowan's father was right behind her, and from the look of concern on his face, Daryl guessed he was the father of more than just Rowan. The baby inside this woman belonged to him.

"Is she in labor?," he asked the other woman, slipping into english without realizing it. He stroked the woman's hair and put his hand on her stomach.

"If she is, it's not good," the younger girl said, "the baby is not supposed to come for at least another moon." Another man rushed over with a tattered looking sleeping bag, rolling it up so the woman could lie back on it like a pillow. The man with the bun brought her a bottle of water, twisting the cap off for her. The woman gulped the water down and Daryl had to fight the urge to tell her to take it slow. Shoveling down those carrots like she did was probably what made her sick in the first place, but he knew from experience how hard it was to take it slow when you were that hungry.

Once the woman had gulped down the whole bottle of water and lay still a while, she started looking better. The crisis was averted for the time being, but Daryl felt for the group. He remembered being on the road that winter, with Lori. Her stomach growing bigger and bigger. Like a ticking time bomb, making them all feel more and more desperate to find a safe place to bunker down.

Rowan's father stayed with the woman a little while longer. When it looked like she had fallen asleep, he approached Daryl. Daryl handed him the woman's knife. She had dropped it when he pulled her over by the tree. The man gave him a strange look as he took the weapon. Not many people surprised Grey Wolf, but this man had. He was starting to understand why his daughter must like him. Rowan had always been a good judge of character. She could tell right away when someone was lying to her, which was ironic since the girl was such a terrible liar herself.

"I still want my daughter back," the man told Daryl. His tone was slightly more relaxed than it had been before, but Daryl could tell he still meant what he said.

"I told ya already," Daryl said, "I ain't goin' to keep her from going where she wants to go." But he had no intention of letting these people take Rowan by force either. He had a feeling Rowan's father understood what Daryl was implying with his carefully chosen words. Like his daugher, the man was as sharp as a damn tack when it came to reading people. And oddly enough, Daryl's resolve seemed to have won him some respect from the man.

"We were going to take you up on your offer," the man told Daryl. "But now I don't think we can move Nokake. And we can't leave her here alone. There are not enough of us left to split the group." Daryl nodded, understanding the man's dilemma. He would offer to go get them the deer and bring it back, but he knew the man was not going to let him slip away that easily. Daryl chewed at the skin on his thumb, trying to think of a compromise.

"We don't have to go all the way back to Alexandria to get meat," he offered, "plenty of good game right around here." He would hunt them up a few squirrels. And take the chance to get his bearings and figure out where the hell he was. They did not have a car. So that meant they would have had to drag or carry him here from the expansion site. There was no way they could have brought him more than a few miles. He wasn't sure if he was going to run, but if he did, he wanted to make damn sure he was running in the right direction. Running was tempting. Once he got inside the walls, Daryl knew he was home free. There was no way five guys, one woman and two pregnant women with one gun were taking on the entire town of Alexandria.

But something was still holding him here. An odd feeling that this is where he needed to be. Where he had to be. He had no idea why, but he had a strange feeling that Rowan was on her way here. If he left, they might not cross paths on his way back. He would lose her to these people, and to the beyond. Daryl had learned one thing, and that was to follow his gut. And his gut wanted to stay put and feed these people.

Rowan's father got up gestured for Daryl to follow him. He handed the man his bow, though his leather jacket was not returned to him. Then Grey Wolf said a few words to the man with the mohawk. Daryl couldn't understand the words, but he was hoping the man was just being given the task of keeping an eye on him and not being told to shoot him dead. The man had the only gun these people seemed to be in possession of. He held it in his hands, but made no move to point it at Daryl.

Daryl and the other man walked a while in silence, getting far enough away from the small clearing that they might be able to find some game. Daryl noticed the man walked quiet as a mouse through the woods. That was usually the sign of an experienced hunter. This led Daryl to wonder why these people were not hunting for themselves. He was genuinely curious and figured there was no harm in asking.

"Why ain't ya hunting for yerselves?," he asked the man in a voice that was just above a whisper.

"Got nothin' but knives," the man said, "no bullets and no arrows left for months now." Daryl nodded. That would be a problem. With his crossbow, new bolts were easy to make, but for a longbow, you really needed a proper arrow. The man seemed to have something else he wanted to say, but he was hesitating.

"You really know Hekaza?," the man finally asked. Daryl nodded, sensing a bit of awe in the man's voice when he said Rowan's pack name. Daryl wasn't sure how much he wanted to offer up to the man about his relationship with Rowan. Particularly after her father had told him she was married. Who knew, maybe this man was her supposed husband and this was some sort of trick.

"She was our lucky charm," the man said, his voice as sad as the pregnant woman's face had been, "since she left, things have been bad. Real bad." Things had not just been bad. They had gone from bad to worse to fucking horrible. They knew the town they attacked had really been to large a group for them to take on. But they had been starving and desperate.

"Maybe y'all shouldn't have made 'er wanna leave then," Daryl suggested, testing his theory that this might be Roe's husband. He expected an argument from the other man, but he only nodded his head. Rowan had an important place in the pack. She was their doctor, their mother. She cared for them and gave them hope. But she was never a fighter. Her father wanted to make her one. But she was too gentle for what she had been subjected to. Grey Wolf had pushed her too hard. Plus whatever had been going on between her and Derek. What happened sexually between married couples was not the business of the pack. But you would have had to have been deaf not to hear her crying at night.

 **** Just so no one gets confused, this is what was going on with Daryl the day before, while Rowan was stitching up Derek back in Alexandria. The timelines will all catch up together in the next chapter.****


	56. Chapter 56

The hunting had gone fairly well. It took him until dusk, but Daryl ended up with one meduim sized rabbit and five squirrels. It didn't seem like much to him, not for the amount of people he was trying to feed. But to the small group of people back at the campfire, it seemed like a feast. The younger pregnant girl had even gone digging through a dirty beat up looking backpack and offered up her last little packet of salt to season up the meat with. Then she had offered Daryl his jacket back. She looked cold, so he told her to keep it, which he saw made her very happy.

Daryl wasn't sure if it was because of his known association with Rowan, or because he had fed them, but the pack was treating Daryl with a level of tolerance and acceptance that he guessed was rare for an outsider to recieve. He could tell they were still keeping a close eye on him. But once it had been given back to him, no attempt was made to take his bow away from him again. And the man with the mohawk that had gone hunting with him sat near Daryl while they ate and made some effort to translate parts of the conversation for him that were being spoken in Sioux. The woman that had collapsed earlier was looking better, but the few attempts that had been made to get her on her feet had not gone well. She was worn out, and her body simply could not continue on at the frantic pace she had been setting for it.

Night fell, and Daryl found a reasonably comfortable spot to lay down. His head still hurt and he was tired from the long day he had that had started with a 20 mile ride on his bike and ended up more strangely than he ever could have imagined. Despite the fact that the wolves were taking turns keeping watch over the camp during the night, Daryl only meant to rest. He wasn't sure if he trusted these people enough to fall asleep next to them. But soon enough he was snoring right along with the rest of the pack, the sounds of a soft conversation in words he couldn't understand drifting over from the other side of the firepit.

When he woke, the dream he had in the night was still fresh in his mind. Daryl had not seen his brother this time, but he had seen the wolf that served as Rowan's spirit guide. The shimmering crystal sparkling against the silky black fur of the animal. It's green eyes shone like beacons in the dark swirling smoke that surrounded them. And the animal spoke to him. Not by moving it's mouth, but the words were clear in Daryl's mind. _Get ready. She's coming and death travels with her._

It was not known to him, since Rowan never told him what she had seen on her spirit quest, but in the smoke, he saw the same vision she had seen in the clouds the night she almost didn't make it back, but in reverse. Rowan was dead in the small clearing, her black hair wet with blood. Daryl was kneeling next to her, rocking her lifeless body back and forth in his arms. A man approached that he now recognized as Rowan's father. He offered Daryl his hand and helped him up off the ground. Rowan's body thumped softly down on the grass as she slipped from his arms, vanishing into a cloud of smoke.

Daryl sat up, rubbing at his face and trying to clear the disturbing images from his mind. All the bones of the small animals he had killed the day before had been placed into a pot of water near the fire the night before and left to slowly steep and simmer. When she saw he was awake, the young pregnant girl dipped out a mugfull of the warm broth and brought it over to him. She was still wearing his jacket and he guessed she had slept with it on or used it as a blanket. He offered her up a smile and a nod in thanks, sipping the broth slowly so it wouldn't burn his mouth. Daryl did not see the man with the mohawk around anywhere, or the man with the bun. But it was morning, they had probably gone off somewhere to relieve themselves or maybe bring back some more water from the lake. Whenever they got back, Daryl was going to make it a point to ask their names. He had been calling them mohawk dude and bun man in his head, and it was starting to sound ridiculous, like they were some kind of comic book superheros with magical hair.

Rowan's father approached Daryl, his own mug of broth in hand. The man sat down and they started talking. Daryl thought the best thing for them was for him to go back to Alexandria and get a truck. There were not that many people in this group. They would be able to fit in one truck if some of them sat in the back. He could fill it with gas and enough supplies to get them well away from this area. Daryl had been missing for a full night and most of a day. It would not be long before his people were going to come looking for him. And if Rick and the others found the wolves, things were not going to go well for them.

There was one problem with this plan. Rowan. Her father was not going to leave without her. And Daryl was not just going to bring her out here and deliver her to these people, especially since he knew she had no interest in being delivered. Grey Wolf didn't want to let Daryl go and lose the chance of getting his daughter back. And so they were at the same impass they had been at the day before.

Out of nowhere, Daryl heard a loud scuffle in the woods nearby. He and Rowan's father both got to their feet, the nearly empty mugs of broth forgotten on the ground. Daryl was so happy he almost started laughing when he saw the giant dog barrelling at him, trampling every bush in sight. A long rope was dangling from Lily's collar and dragging on the ground behind her. She jumped up on Daryl, her paws on his shoulders. Then she started licking him all over his face, soaking his beard and mustache with slobber. For once Daryl didn't even mind, he hugged the dog back with equal affection and excitement, roughing up her fur and rubbing her back.

"A'right Lily," he told the dog, "enough now, get down." The dog did as she was told, turning immediately to the mugs of broth on the ground. She knocked them both over and quickly lapped up the spilled contents of each. Daryl could see the look on Grey Wolf's face. It was look that could only be described as pure joy and happiness. When Daryl followed his gaze, he saw Rowan and Tank, running in his direction through the path that Lily had cleared for them.

Her father had his arms open in eager anticipation, but Rowan ran right past the man like she didn't even see him there. From the moment she spotted him, her vision was like a tunnel. She headed straight for Daryl, flinging herself into his arms and kissing him hard on the mouth. Her body collided against his with so much force she nearly knocked them both onto the ground. He kissed her back, holding her tight against his chest. But he had not forgotten the warning from his dream.

Assuming that the incoming danger was going to be Rowan's father, Daryl glanced at the man over the top of Rowan's head. But Grey Wolf did not look like he was going to be of any danger to anyone. His eyes were full of tears that he was trying hard to blink back. He only looked happy to see Rowan, and did not seem angry or vengeful about Daryl holding her.

"Hey," Daryl said, nearly peeling Rowan off him so he could look at her face when he spoke to her, "I think there's someone else hear that mighta like to say 'ello to ya." He nodded with his head towards her father. Rowan turned, looking at the man like she had not even realized he was standing there despite the fact that she had rushed right past him to get at Daryl. Her body went stiff and Daryl felt her nails digging into the hard muscle of his arm.

"It's alright," her father told her. The man opened his arms, but made no move to get closer to his daughter. He could see that she was afraid, and it made him feel more terrible than he felt about anything else he had done since the beginning of the turn. Since she was just a tiny baby she had always been eager to rush into his arms, climbing into his lap to be held like a toddler even after she was far too old for such behavior.

Tank went before her, breaking the ice. He rubbed up against her father's legs and allowed the man to pat him on the head. Daryl looked on with some surprise. He had never seen the dog affectionate with anyone except for Rowan before. Once he had recieved his greeting, Tank sat down next to the man and barked at Rowan. It was like a little puppy yip and sounded comical coming from the giant mountain of a dog. Sometimes Daryl swore that dog could talk. And right now he was saying, come on Rowan, it's alright!

Rowan hesitated for another second, not wanting to let go of Daryl now that she had him in her grasp. But finally he felt her hand slip from his arm and she was drifting slowly towards her father. Her arms went around the man's waist and he squeezed her tight for just a moment before he pulled back and tilted her face up so her could look at her.

She looked good. Her eyes were red and her face was flushed, but her cheeks were full and round. Rowan looked just like her mother had the day he met her. He had been somewhere in the fuzzy grey area between boy and man but she had been all woman. Later he had been shocked to find out that she was more than ten years his senior. The same age his daughter was now. Rowan could have been her twin, except for the black hair. That was all him. He ran his hand over her hair, smoothing down the wild bits of curl that had escaped her braids. In his darkest moments, Grey Wolf had been sure his daughter was dead. But deep in his heart, he had known that someday they would meet again. He refused to go to his grave without making things right between them.

"I'm sorry I ran away," Rowan told the man. Really she did not regret her actions, but she did feel bad for causing her father pain. She could also tell her absence had affected him. But maybe it had been for the best. He did not have the crazed intense look in his eyes that had been there the last time she saw him. He looked more like the man she had known all her life. But still he had sent the pack in to attack Alexandria. She decided to wait and watch him a bit longer before she decided if she trusted him again.

"I'm sorry too," he told her, holding her against his chest again and talking softly into her hair, "For everything." She might still be hesitant about his intentions, but at least she nodded her head, accepting his apology. Since Rowan had been welcomed by her father, the other members of the pack knew it was safe to come forward and greet her. Daryl had noticed the younger pregnant girl had already been edging forward, bouncing from one foot to the other in eager anticipation.

Once Rowan's father let go of her, the girl rushed over and wrapped her arms around Rowan. The two women spoke in a flurry of foreign words, and Rowan was rubbing her hands over the girl's round stomach. Daryl heard her say Takoda once or twice, he had alreay figured out by now Takoda was the name of the young girl's boyfriend and the father of the baby inside her.

A man stepped into Daryl's view. He had not seen the man before, but it was obvious from his looks and the carved marking on his forehead that he was a member of this group. He was a big ass motherfucker too. A good half a foot taller than Daryl and with a longer reach. There was an unsettling smile on his face as he watched Rowan with the other woman. But when he turned to look at Daryl, his eyes narrowed and his handsome face contorted with hate and anger. The man pointed towards Daryl, yelling and making a lot of angry sounding words. Rowan's father stepped in front of Daryl, blocking him partially from the other man's line of vision. They started arguing back and forth. Daryl heard the words wendigo and wasichu used a few times. He didn't know what they meant, but from the way the taller man was saying them, he guessed they were insults that were being directed at him.

Rowan stepped back, returning to Daryl's side and gripping one of his hands in hers. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the men. Daryl did not like being insulted, and he really did not care for the threatening way this man was speaking to Rowan's father. There was something about this situation he couldn't put his finger on. He looked at Rowan and then back to the tall man. He thought about the way the man had been smiling at her when Rowan was hugging that other girl, with so much more than a friendly glance. The realization hit Daryl like a truck. This guy was the husband Rowan's father had been talking about. And from the way Rowan was looking at the man, she didn't seem to have a lot of desire to remain married to him.

Daryl felt his hands clench down on his bow and he raised it up, pointing it at the other man. Then he started edging around to the right, trying to get Rowan's father out of the line of fire. Rowan was still clinging to his arm, not to keep him from what he was doing, but because she was scared. Daryl locked eyes with Derek, and he saw the man reach behind his back, looking for the gun that Daryl guessed he had hidden there.

Before the two men could go any further with their fight, everyone's attention was diverted to a loud raucous coming from the other side of the campsite. The two men that Daryl guessed had gone for water were stomping back into camp, and they were dragging a woman along between them. A woman that looked none to happy about what was being done to her. Daryl knew who it was even before she looked up and called his name. Carol.


	57. Chapter 57

"That's the fucking wasichu that killed Takoda!," Derek yelled, pointing at the woman that had just been hurled to the ground in the middle of the small clearing. Rowan was not sure what to think. Mostly she was trying to figure out what in the hell Carol was doing all the way out here. Carol looked up, wiping at the dirt on her face. Rowan saw it clearly now. The anger and hatred inside the woman shone out through her eyes now that she was making no attempt to disguise it. Rowan knew what Carol was doing out here the way she knew that the sun was going to rise and set again tomorrow. Carol had been watching her. Planning to kill her. She had followed Rowan out to the cabin and then followed her here.

Rowan felt herself filling up with anger. She finally understood how her father had been able to do such terrible things in order to keep them alive. He must have been as angry as she felt right now. This woman killed Takoda. She liked Daniel. She would have killed Rowan too if she had the chance. She deserved to die. And Rowan could see she was not the only person that felt that way.

Daryl watched as the young pregnant girl ran forward. She hit her knees hard on the ground as she dropped down, pounding on Carol with her small fists. The girl was sobbing and the man with the mohawk took ahold of her and pulled her away. He didn't care much if she hurt the woman with the grey hair, but he didn't want her to hurt herself in the process. People were screaming at each other and yelling things at Carol.

Rowan's father pointed at the woman and then said a few words to the man with the mohawk. Since he got out his gun and pointed it at Carol, Daryl could guess what the words had been. Kill her. Rowan was still clinging to his hand and he squeezed it back. If he tried to step in and stop this, Daryl was not sure what would happen. They might kill him just for interfering.

Rowan was not planning to stop what was happening. In her mind, Carol was about to get just what she deserved. But then Rowan saw someone else. It was only a flash in her mind. But she would know the woman anywhere. Her mother. She was standing above the woman on the ground, shaking her head. One lonely tear streaked down her cheek. Then she looked up and met Rowan's eyes before her image was gone. _Hate only breeds more hate. The only way to stop this is to end it now._ Standing up for someone that you loved was easy. Standing up for your enemy was divine.

Stepping forward, Rowan dropped Daryl's hand and headed for the man with the gun. She put her hand gently on top of his pointing the gun he was holding down at the ground in front of him. Carol looked up at the younger woman, the shock plain on her face. The last person she expected help from was Rowan. After all, she had not been very welcoming towards the woman.

"But she killed Takoda," the man with the gun said. He sounded so sad. Rowan could see the pain on his face, and she knew it was reflected in her eyes as well.

"You were attacking her people, her home," Rowan reminded him, "what did you expect her to do?" The man nodded and Rowan wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back. Rowan's father watched her, a look of pride and astonishment on his face. His daughter had grown strong since the last time he saw her. Her voice no longer shook. She had not become a great fighter, and she might never be. But she was fighting for what she thought was right. Fighting hard enough to convince even him. And even if he did not believe she was in the right, Grey Wolf knew this was his last chance to heal the old wounds between him and Rowan. If he killed the woman Rowan was trying to help, their relationship would be over. Life didn't often hand out second chances, and he didn't intend to waste the one he had been given.

Stepping forward, Grey Wolf extended his hand down to the woman on the ground. Carol glanced at his hand for a moment, like it was a snake that might bite her. Then she slipped her hand into his and let the man help her up onto her feet. When Daryl had not jumped forward immediately to defend her, Carol had been sure she was going to die. And maybe she even wanted to die. A release from this life sounded comforting, like a long sound sleep after a stressful day at work. She had not expected these people to be merciful. She had convinced herself they were monsters. It was what she had to believe in order to do what she had done. But now she was starting to second guess herself. They were just people. People that had done terrible things in order to survive. The same as her.

"Takoda died a warrior's death," Grey Wolf told what remained of his pack. He spoke in english so the woman would understand his words. His arm was around her shoulders, keeping her by his side. "Killing this woman is not going to bring him back." He stood tall and his shoulders were back, adding an authoritative prescence to his words. He could see his people, nodding their heads in agreement with his words. There was relief in their eyes. He knew then that his pack was as tired as he was. Tired of killing and tired of starving. Tired of living in this world. Takoda's pregnant mate was crying, but even she showed no desire to continue fighting.

"This is bullshit!," Derek screamed out. He had the gun in his hands that he had taken from Rowan's bag. He was not going to stand for any of this. And he was definately not going to just give up Rowan to the wasichu he had seen her kissing. He was going to kill that man. And anyone else that got in his way. Grey Wolf no longer deserved to be leader of the pack. Seeing his daughter again had made him soft and weak.

"Enough Derek," Grey Wolf told him, speaking in Sioux, "stop this now." Derek was pointing his gun at the man his daughter loved. But he quickly turned and pointed the gun at Grey Wolf instead. Allowing Rowan to marry Derek had been a mistake from the beginning. She had been infatuated with the man at the time, but Grey Wolf had known the man was not right for her. Derek had a mean streak a mile wide, and while that was useful in this new world, it was not something Grey Wolf wanted directed at his only child. But Derek was strong. He was the best fighter in the pack. And he had promised that he would give his life to keep Rowan safe. In the new world, that had seemed like a more important quality in a mate for his daughter than kindness and understanding.

"NO!," Derek shouted back at the man. He said nothing else, instead he simply squeezed the trigger on the gun. He hit the man in the shoulder and dropped him to the ground. Nokake screamed as thought the bullet had hit her instead of her mate. Grey Wolf was shot. Derek was the pack master now. And his first order of business was going to be getting rid of both of these stinking wasichu. He turned, pointing the gun at Daryl.

Daryl had his bow up, aiming at the other man, but he knew the man was going to shoot him whether he got an arrow in him or not. Instead of speeding up, everything seemed to slow down. He had heard that when people died, their lives flashed before their eyes. And in that moment, he saw his in a series of tiny flashing moments. Fishing with his brother. Shooting his first deer. The first time he had sex. His first kiss, which funny enough happened after the first time he had sex. Becoming a member of the group he now considered family. Feeling like he was worth something for the first time in his life. The sound of Beth laughing as they lit that cabin on fire. And Rowan. The taste of her, the smell of her. The way her loose hair fell down over them like a blanket when she kissed him.

He heard the shot as it was fired. But no pain followed it. He thought he was in shock, there was no way the man missed him. He was only standing a few yards away. Daryl blinked a few times, unsure of what he was seeing. At first he thought he saw his brother standing in front of him, dressed in his military uniform like he had been when Daryl had the vision of him. But then Daryl blinked again and focused on the man in front of him. It was Morgan. His stomach was covered in duct tape and he had a gash on his head that was still trickling blood. Without saying a word, he stepped in and took the bullet that was meant for Daryl.

"Get out of the way and fucking die already," Derek yelled at the black man. All reason was gone from his mind and he fired at the man again, hitting him square in the chest. Still the man stood, taking slow even steps towards Derek, using his staff to help support his weight. Derek shot him again, and now he could hear people yelling for him to stop in a mixture of english and sioux. The combination of voices was like a swirl of background noise to him. He was focused on only one thing. Killing the man that was in his way and then killing the man with the crossbow.

Pulling the trigger again, he saw blood fly out the back of the black man, splattering across the boots of man behind him that Rowan had been kissing. Morgan dropped down to his knees and fell to the ground, still clinging to his staff. As Morgan fell, Daryl fired his bow.

Derek was ready for him. He stepped to the side and the bolt sailed harmlessly past his head, catching nothing but a long stand of his hair. Derek knew the man was done now, that type of bow took to long to reload. He leveled his gun at Daryl, aiming for his head. But when he pulled the trigger there was nothing but a hollow clicking noise. Looking down at the gun in disbelief, Derek pulled the trigger again. Another audible click was heard, and the man with the bow still stood there in front of him, unharmed.

Across the campsite, Rowan stood with her feet apart, the way Daryl showed her. A gun was in her hands, and she had no idea how it got there. She had either taken it from Sapata after she stopped him from shooting Carol or he had given it to her. Either way it was in her hands and she was aiming it at Derek. Her hands were not shaking and she felt a funny sort of calm come over her. The feeling that she had when she had woken up from her spirit quest came back to her. She was ready. Ready to do what she had not been able to do until now.

"Just hand that over before you shoot yourself," Derek told her, "we both know you're not going to use it." He held his hand out and took a step in Rowan's direction. Tank was next to her, growling at the man, but Rowan clicked her tounge at the dog, signaling him to stay put. This was something she had to take care of herself.

"Leave now or I am going to kill you," Rowan told the man. In the back of her mind, she was aware of her father, bleeding on the ground. Carol and Nokake were leaning over him, pressing down on his shoulder to try to stop the bleeding. But she kept all her attention focused on Derek. The aura around him was brown with greed and jealousy. When she saw it explode with green, she didn't wait for him to move. She fired. The first shot hit his chest, knocking him backwards a few steps. Instead of running, she stepped toward him and pulled the trigger again. He put his hand to his chest, and it came away covered in blood. The look on his face was still on of a man that could not believe what was happening, even when he dropped to his knees and fell down onto the ground.

Rowan closed the distance between them and stood over the man that she had been stupid enough to love before she figrued out who he really was. She shot him again in the chest. That was for putting his hands on her when she had asked him not to. The gun exploded again. That was for shooting her dad. And one more time she fired. That one was hurting Morgan when all he wanted to do was show you kindness. Rowan was still pulling the trigger of the now empty gun over and over again when she felt Daryl hands on her.

"It's over," he said, taking the gun from Rowan's hands and pulling her into his arms. Her felt her body against his, stiff at first, but then she went almost limp in his arms. In a moment she was pulling away from him, kneeling down by Morgan. She took his hand in hers, wanting to say her goodbyes, but as soon as she touched him ske knew he was already gone. The light was rising out of him, and just before it was gone, Rowan saw them. A young boy that had Morgan's eyes holding the hand of a pretty woman with dark skin and delicate hands. When Rowan blinked again, they were all gone, even Morgan.

"He's gone," she said, placing Morgan's hand gently down against his body. Daryl was kneeling next to her with a knife. In one quick motion, he stabbed Morgan through the head and then closed the man's eyes. Morgan was a good man, Daryl needed to make sure he wouldn't turn like his brother had. Daryl put his arm around Rowan, rubbing her back and mumbling a few comforting words. He liked Morgan too, but he knew Rowan had made a special bond with the man in the short time they had known each other.

"He is going to be alright," Carol called over, "the bleeding stopped." She was still leaning over Grey Wolf, pressing down gently on his shoulder. Rowan scrambled over towards them. She knew that in all the confusion, Carol could have run and saved herself. But instead she stayed and saved Rowan's father from bleeding to death. For all her faults, she was brave. And strong.

"Thank you," Rowan told her, looking the woman in the eye, "for helping my dad." Carol did not reply, but she gave the woman a nod of her head. Rowan was making her nervous now, smiling at her with a strange amused look on her face. She might not have been the wolf spy that Carol thought she was, but the girl was still a few bricks shy of a full load. In the middle of all this, what in the world could this crazy woman possibly have to be smiling about?

"What is it?," Carol finally asked her.

"I think I like the real you," Rowan informed her, placing her hands where Carol's were so the woman could sit back and rest a moment. Now it was Carol's turn to smile. She sat back and wiped her bloody hands off on her pants. Carol tried to stop smiling, but ended up laughing and feeling like she was losing her damn mind for real this time.

"Good," she finally spit out once she got control of herself, "because I am sick of making casseroles."


	58. Chapter 58

Rowan knew her father was going to be fine. He had been shot before in a worse spot than he had been this time. And bitten once too. His aura had looked worse then than it did now. But she was glad the bleeding stopped. With that crisis averted, it seemed fate was just not going to give any of them a break. Once she realized her mate was going to be alright, the adrenaline that had gotten Nokake on her feet and moving left as quickly as it had surged through her. She sat back with her hands on her stomach, breathing hard. The woman was trying to be brave, but it was obvious that she was in a tremendous amount of pain.

"We need to get them both back to town," Rowan said. She looked at Carol, her statement coming out sounding more like a question. _Are you going to help us?_ Carol nodded, then looked again at the two people in need of medical attention and started trying to figure out how they were going to get them both back to town.

"I could go back for a truck," Daryl offered, kneeling down and looking at the grunting pregnant woman like she was scarier than any walker he had ever seen. He could go back for a truck, but once he got one, he had no idea how he was going to get it out here. They were in the middle of the woods, and the trees here were thick. That made it a good camping spot, since it was harder for the walkers to get to them. But it also made bringing a vehicle out here nearly impossible. He was not sure if he could get through with a truck, not even one of the smaller ones. "Or maybe we should just try and carry them back?," he added.

Before Rowan or Carol could answer him, the sound of barking filled the clearing. Rowan's head popped up, and she immediately started looking around for her dogs. Tank was by her side. But Lily was gone. In all the confusion, Rowan had not even noticed that Lily ran off. It must have happened when either she or Derek was shooting. Lily got spooked by loud noises sometimes. Rowan felt like like the worst doggie mommy in the world for not noticing the dog was gone. But at least she had come back.

Lily darted into the open, dragging Aaron behind her on the end of her rope leash. Both man and dog were out of breath. Aaron's hair was all ruffled up and his clothes were ripped up like he had walked directly through every thorny bush all the way from the lake to the campsite. Since Lily was leading him, this was a distinct posibility. He stopped, letting go of the rope and looking at the odd assortment of people that were standing and kneeling around, unable to hide his shock.

Some of these people looked a lot like they were part of the same group that had attacked Alexandria the day before. And instead of fighting them, his people were helping them. There were two dead bodies on the ground, and he saw a woman with a large round stomach that looked like she might be in labor. Whatever the hell happened out here, it was going to make for a good story when he finally got to hear it. He would feed Rowan some wine later and get the full details from her. But now there was no time for stories. These people needed help and they needed it fast.

"Hey!," he called out as loud as he could into the woods behind him, "I found them!" At first there was no response, but soon Rowan could hear the voices and the sound of many so many heavy footsteps falling at once. She looked at the wolves. They were looking scared and nervous, glancing at Aaron and the gun on his belt, trying to figure out what he was going to do. The last thing Rowan wanted was for more people to get shot because of a misunderstanding. She looked up at Daryl, the concern plain on her face.

"Come 'ere," Daryl told the loosely assembled group of people, he gestured for them to get closer. He tried to figure out what the best thing to have them do would be. "Umm... A'right, everyone sit down." Not sure what else to do, the wolves did as Daryl asked, edging closer and sitting on the ground near the campfire like they were playing a strange game of Simon Says. The young girl in Daryl's jacket scooted close to the man with the mohawk and he put his arm around her, hugging her close to him.

Aaron fished around in his bag and came up with a few folded up handtowels. Eric laughed at him for keeping towels in his bag. It started out as a sort of Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy joke, but Aaron was surprised how often they came in handy. For now he could use them to cover up the faces of the two dead men on the ground and show them some respect. Looking at Morgan made tears come into his eyes, but he had seen it the moment he met the man. Morgan was not afraid to die.

When he finished paying his very brief respects to the man, Aaron approached the small group of people that were sitting quietly on the ground where Daryl had told them too. They looked like most of the people Aaron met on the road. Dirty, tired, hungry and scared. This group was unique since they all appeared to be of native american descent, and because of the carvings on their foreheads. But they were still just people.

"Hi, I'm Aaron," he said, offering them a smile and trying to shove Lily away from him as he knelt down. When he let go of her leash, she had left him alone in order to go molest Daryl, but now she had come back and started licking him again. Aaron was grateful to the dog for leading him straight to Rowan, but now she was just being a pest. He pushed her off again and held his hand out to the man that had his arms around a young girl wearing Daryl's jacket.

"Tony," the man said, reaching out hesitantly to take Aaron's hand briefly in his own. His pack name was Sapata, which meant dancing bear. But he felt strange giving that name to this smiling white man. So he told Aaron the name his mother gave him instead. "This is my cousin Rosie," he added, leaning his head towards the girl he had his arms around. She looked at Aaron with her big brown eyes, but made no move to shake his hand.

Eric was the next one to come crashing into the clearing, holding his burning ribs and trying to catch his breath. They had been out looking for the missing members of their group since first light. Lily had shown up out of nowhere and taken off like a rocket once Aaron had grabbed the rope that was tied to her collar. She left complete destruction in her path that made it easy to follow her, but it had still taken them a little while to catch up. Eric hit the ground next to Rowan and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight. When he realized Rowan was gone, his heart felt like it was about to leap out of his chest. And then Lily showed up looking like someone had her tied up. That scared him even more and he suddenly felt terrible for all the times he had hidden from his mother in the clothing racks at department stores when he was a kid.

Rick was a few steps behind Eric, followed closely by Michonne, who unlike the men that were gasping for breath, did not appear winded at all. Spencer and Abraham were bringing up the rear. All of them piled into the clearing, then stood around staring, like they had no idea what to do. Rick had been gearing up for a fight, but it seemed the fighting had already been done with before he got there. He wasn't sure what to do now.

"We need to get them back to town," Carol told him, seeing that someone needed to step in and take charge. She pointed to the injured man that Rowan was hovering over and the pregnant woman that was holding her stomach, leaning back against another man. Michonne headed for the woman, feeling her head and putting her hand on the woman's stomach to see how strong and fast her contractions were.

"We need to get her back to town now," Michonne told Rick once she got done looking the woman over. She didn't know this woman, but no on deserved to give birth here in the dirt like an animal.

It took Rick a moment to collect himself. Since Carol and Michonne were in complete agreement, a rare occurrence, he saw no point in trying to argue with them both. He had no idea why they were now suddenly offering medical attention to the same people that they had been planning to hunt down and kill, but like every other thing in the strange string of events his life had become, he just shrugged his shoulders and accepted it. Then Rick did what he did best. He took control.

"Get a few long sturdy branches," he told Spencer and Eric, "we can use those sleeping bags over there to make stretchers."

It took the combined efforts of both groups, but the stretchers got made. Nokake and Rowan's father were carried back to town. Daryl and Aaron stayed behind and made sure Morgan got buried. For Morgan they also buried the man that killed him. It was what he would have wanted. Daryl was hesitant to let Rowan out of his sight again, but she needed to go with her father so she could be with him when he woke up.

By the time Daryl got back to town, he was dirty and sweaty and tired. Since all Aaron offered him was a pat on the back as he headed for his own house, Daryl guessed the other man felt about the same. A little further down the street, Daryl could see a lot of people were hanging around the outside of the infirmary. He picked up his pace, worried at first that some kind of angry crowd had formed. But when he got closer, he saw wolves and Alexandria citizens alike standing around. Some of them were sitting on the steps or in the grass. Spotting Olivia, Daryl caught her attention.

"What's goin' on in there?," he asked her.

"That woman is having her baby," Olivia said, the excitement in her voice obvious, "it's going to be the very first baby born here in Alexandria." Olivia smiled at him, then remembered the message she was supposed to be passing on to him. "Roe said when you got here, I should send you in."

Before he could object, Olivia had him by the hand, pulling him up the steps and pushing at people to get out of her way. Daryl was not too keen on watching some woman give birth, in fact he found the idea scary and also a bit disgusting. But it seemed he was not going to be left with much of a choice. Once Olivia hit the door, she called in to Rowan, telling her that Daryl was back.

Flinging into his arms for the second time that day, Rowan gave him a lingering kiss on the side of his neck and then started pulling him further inside the room, past the little dividers that had been set up for privacy. Daryl braced himself for what he was about to see. When all he saw was a very tired looking woman sitting in bed, holding very tiny red faced baby, he was so relieved that he almost started laughing.

Deanna was there, having a quiet word with Denise and Rosita. And Rosie, the younger pregnant wolf girl was leaning in, looking down at the small baby with a very curious look on her face. Enid was in the corner of the room, minding Rowan's dogs and making sure they didn't rush in and bother the baby. Rowan's father was in the next bed over from his mate. He was sitting up, though Daryl guessed he was not supposed to be. His arm was bound up in a sling to keep him from using the shoulder that had been shot. The look on his face was the exact same one Rowan had when Rosita had shoved her sprained wrist into that brace. He smiled over at his new baby, then looked down at his tied up arm and scowled.

"I got a baby brother," Rowan informed Daryl with the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face. She pulled him closer, pushing him right up next to the bedside of the new mother.

"I didn't say it was alright for visitors to come in yet," Denise said. She was trying to keep some small amount of control over her infirmary and it was not going very well.

"It's okay," Rowan's father told her, "he's family." Denise nodded. The entire group of people with the carved foreheads that had just been brought in had been refusing to leave the room while their friend was in labor. Denise understood they were just being protective, but there were too many of them. Besides being filthy and loud, they were getting in Denise's way when she was already nervous enough, having never assissted in a birth before. Rowan's father had assumed control and ordered them all outside onto the porch. So if he said Rowan's boyfriend could come in, then Denise supposed he could.

Rowan leaned down, kissing Nokake on the cheek. "Can I take him over for dad to see?," Rowan asked her. If someone didn't take the baby over there soon, her father was going to have a sprained neck to go with the rest of his injuries from trying to get a better look at the little one. Nokake nodded and handed the baby to Rowan. The extreme caution the two women used when handling the tiny human made it look to Daryl like they were trying to diffuse a nuclear bomb.

Rowan took the baby over to her father. He couldn't hold it, since his arm was in the much detested sling, but he could touch it and smell it's little baby head. Daryl had never seen a baby so tiny, and he tried to remember if Judith had ever been that small. He had held her and given her a bottle the day she was born, but he didn't remember her ever being that little. This one had come earlier than it was supposed to. Taking a few steps closer, he slipped his arm around Rowan's waist and looked down at the small bundle in her arms. The baby already had a thick crop of black hair on his head and he had the same shaped mouth as Rowan and her father, the lips full and slightly downturned at the corners.

Daryl reached over, rubbing the baby's arm softly with the back of his hand before he kissed Rowan on the cheek. At his touch, the baby opened his eyes and started making a loud fuss. Daryl jumped back, making Rowan and her father laugh. Rowan pulled the babe away and quickly returned him to his mother's open arms.

Once Rowan's arms were free, she wrapped them around Daryl again. This time she held on to him a little longer than she had when she greeted him at the door. She held on tight, pressing her body against him as they hugged. He could feel her need for him, and he was wondering very selfishly how long they needed to hang around and stare at Rowan's new brother before he could take her home and be alone with her.

"Deanna?," Rowan asked, speaking quietly as to not disturb the nursing baby, "are you okay here if I go home and wash up." Deanna looked over at the young woman and the way she and Daryl were pressed against each other. From the look of them, washing up was the last thing they had on their minds. She smiled. To be young and in love was a beautiful thing.

"Of course," Deanna told her, nodding her head, "but don't be too long, we need to have some kind of meeting and figure out what we are going to do with your friends." Rowan nodded. She was planning to take the pack out to stay with her at her trailer, but maybe Deanna had other ideas. Maybe Rick would want to keep an eye on them for a while first, like he did with Morgan. Hopefully not for too long, wolves didn't fair well in captivity and neither would her old group members.

"We still have that deer Daryl got," Rowan said, thinking out loud. She had a tendecy to blurt out what she was thinking when she was mentally tired and worn out. "You want to have the meeting at my trailer and I can make dinner too?" Deanna nodded. That actually sounded much better to her than having the meeting at her house.

"In two hours?," Deanna asked. That would give her enough time to talk to Rick and whoever else she needed to. Rowan held her one thumb up in the air. Both her father and her new brother each got one more quick kiss before she called her dogs out of the corner to come with her. Tank stalled near Nokake's bed, making a little whiny noise. But Rowan snapped her fingers at him again. The dogs could meet the baby later, Rowan had already filled her quota of excitement for the day.

"Hekaza... I mean Roe," he father called to her as she was on her way out the door, "tell them they can come in now, but they all have to wash their hands before they touch the baby." Grey Wolf didn't remember much about babies, Rowan was his only one and it had been quite a few years since she had been so small. But he did remember her mother used to make people wash up before they held her. Rowan give him a thumbs up as well.

"Hold on," Deanna said, following Rowan out the door. Before Rowan started sending people in to see the new addition, Deanna wanted to make a little speech to the people waiting outside. It had been a complete surprise, and the finale of a very long line of strange events, but that did not change the fact that the very first baby had been born in her town. And that made it a special day for everyone, no matter the circumstances. Babies meant that life here would carry on. The town would grow and thrive. The outbreak was not the end of life as they knew it. It was only the beginning.

The End

 **** This is the end of the story, but I do have a epilogue I will put up telling how everything turned out for everyone. Thanks to everyone that took the time to leave a review and I hope you all enjoyed my story. ****


	59. Epilogue

Springtime Part One

Since he had lived his entire life in southern Georgia, the first winter in Alexandria was the coldest and snowiest winter that Daryl had ever seen. So much white snow. It just kept coming down, falling and swirling, the wind blowing it into piles against the sides of the houses. Years later, Daryl would think of that winter in his mind, not only as the first winter he spent with Rowan, but as the winter of the puppies.

During the first big snowstorm, Lily welped her pups. Seven total, which made Rowan very happy since she thought seven was a lucky number. The first six came out without a problem, four of them light brown like Lily with little dark noses and the other two dark like Tank. But then Lily started breathing hard, making horrible whining noises. The last of the pups was stuck, and she was trying to push it out sideways. Between Rowan and Olivia, who had come over to offer her assistance, they managed to get the little fellow turned around. And out he slid, as lily white as the piles of snow outside.

The moment Rowan got that little white puppy into her arms, rubbing him off gently with an old towel, Daryl knew all her tough talk about two dogs being more than enough trouble and how she wasn't keeping any of the puppies was about to be thrown right out the window. Even Rowan's father showed some interest in the small white dog with the pink nose, walking over and leaning down to stroke the puppy a few times while Rowan held it in her arms. To Daryl the dog was just an unusual color, albino. But like many things, to Rowan the little white dog was a sign. All white fur in an animal where the color was unusual meant that the animal had been touched by the great spirit Gaia, the mother of all life. The pup would bring them good fortune.

Once the snow started falling, living out in the trailer had become miserable in a hurry. Daryl, Rowan and the dogs moved into a house in town that they now shared with her father, his wife and their small son. Enid technically lived there too, but she spent most of her night's across the street in Carl's room. After Carl fell off the roof and almost broke his leg trying to sneak out to see her, Rick gave up trying to keep the young couple from sleeping together at night. He still insisted they were a little young to be actually living together, but as long as Enid still had a room at Rowan's house, she was allowed to sleep where she pleased.

Daryl thought he would miss the privacy of being out at Rowan's trailer, but once they were moved into the big house, he found he liked it there even better. Having Rowan's father around all the time made him nervous at first. But the man loved to talk. About hunting, about fishing, about any subject that made Daryl willing to contribute to a conversation. Daryl expected Rowan to encourage him to have a relationship with her father, but she stayed neutral on the subject and let the two men work things out for themselves. While Daryl was never really able to think of the man as a father figure, he did eventually come to think of him as something even better. A friend.

Even if he had not become close with Grey Wolf, it would have been worth it to live with him just to have the baby around. Nokake named her son Falcon, or Chayton in Sioux. Falcon was the version of the name that stuck and it suited the boy. He had big brown eyes and he loved to watch everyone, just like the bird of prey for which he had been named. The way Rowan and the boy's mother fawned over him, Daryl figured he was probably the most spoiled baby in the entire new world. From the manner in which those two women carried on, you would think the boy might die of neglect if he wasn't being held by one of them every single second of every single day. This behavior was an endless source of amusement to both Daryl and the boy's father.

Daryl knew that some men might be jealous and resentful of a baby that sucked up so much of their girlfriend's time and attention. Maybe they would feel as if they were being ignored. But he felt exactly the opposite of that. He loved watching Rowan with her brother. The big smiles she would get on her face when she smiled at Falcon and he smiled back at her were contagious. If anything, Tank was the jealous one, always inching in closer and closer until the giant dog had his head in Rowan's lap, trying to crowd the baby out. The look on the dog's face when he did this was priceless and his big sad puppy eyes made Daryl want to laugh.

Watching Rowan with the baby made Daryl happy. And as the winter months went by, it started to make him feel a certain way that he didn't really understand. The notion was so foriegn to him that even Daryl wasn't sure what he was feeling at first. It was like a strange sort of longing. And when he lay down to sleep at night with Rowan in his arms, he found himself imagining things. Like what the baby might look like if he was the father and Rowan was the mother. Since Rowan never mentioned any desire to have a child of her own, Daryl kept his thoughts to himself.

The supplies from inside the bunker he and Rowan found under the cabin kept the town well fed despite the snow. But there were still a few times that Daryl leaned against the window sill, looking out at the blanket of white that covered the town, secretly nervous that it was never going to melt. Rowan would appear behind him in these moments, like she knew how he was feeling. Her arms would wrap round his waist as she pushed his hair out of the way with her nose to plant a soft kiss on the back of his neck. _If you're cold we could go warm up. In bed._ No matter the temperature outside, Rowan's hands were always warm.

Despite Daryl's reservations, spring came. It came with wet sloppy mud and the planting of the giant garden inside the new expansion. Spring brought wild jumping, running, barking puppies that could no longer be cooped up and were ready to go to good homes. Most of the puppies had already been claimed. Eric and Aaron, after much begging and kissing up on Eric's part, took home a pretty brindle pup to go with the kitten Enid had left at their house without asking first.

Spencer was given one of the two black dogs. He was very specific about wanting a dog that was black, like Tank. That made Rowan smile. Tank always did like Spencer, right from the beginning. That was part of the reason she knew they were going to be good friends. The puppy drove Deanna crazy at first, chewing up her things and making messes in her clean house. But Rowan noticed as much as the woman tried to pretend she didn't like the dog, she was up extra early every morning walking the dog all around town.

Carl was given the other black dog. Which really made it a family dog to what was now one of the larger blended families in town. The Grimes family consisted of Rick and of course his two children, Carl and little Judith. Enid was always with them, and even Rowan was starting to think of her as part of that family unit instead of her own. Plus Carl had a new stepmother and a new sibling on the way.

Rick and Michonne had gone back and forth for a few weeks after the night of the spirit quest. Sleeping together, changing their minds and trying to be friends again. Sleeping together again. Unsure of what they wanted or needed from each other. In the end fate had made the decision easy for them. Peyote, it seemed, did not serve as a very effective contraceptive. Michonne had become pregnant as a result of very first night they spent together. Once they had the baby as their common ground, or as their new mission as Abraham liked to call it, it was easy for them to figure out what they wanted. Daryl was happy for them, even if Michonne was both the grouchiest and most hilarious looking pregnant woman he had ever seen. He had already tried suggesting to her that Merle would make a good name for a girl or a boy, but all he got for his efforts was a very dirty look.

One of the other tan dogs had gone to Tony, the wolf pack or at least former wolf pack member with the mohawk and his baby cousin Rosie. They lived with Olivia and Eugene in a sort of roommate situation. Part of Deanna's rules when she agreed to let the pack stay was that they could not all live together. She wanted to split them up. Partly it was because she didn't trust them at the time, but it was also to make it easier for them to intergrate into the town. The living situation was meant to be temporary, but oddly enough, both couples seemed to enjoy each other. Rosie helped Olivia with keeping track of the food supplies and Eugene was not at all embarrassed to admit that he felt safer with Tony around. It was almost like having Abraham around to protect him again, except there was significantly less profanity being used.

Heath took a dog. He was planning to train it so he could take it out on the road with him. He had always been impressed with the way Rowan's dogs warned her when walkers were coming. Along with the dog, he also had a few new volunteers for his supply missions. The former wolf pack members were used to being nomadic. During the whole time after the outbreak, they had never settled down anywhere for longer than a few weeks. Staying in Alexandria made them restless. Most of them, especially the men, were more than happy to get out and see some action. And Heath was happy to have them along. They were fierce fighters and already used to following orders.

Daryl had not been surprised when Rowan gave the dogs to any of these people. Most of them had been coming by to see the puppies regularly as they grew. But there was one tiny tan dog left. The runt of the litter, much smaller than it's siblings and only about half the size of the white dog that Rowan had claimed for herself. Daryl had been almost too shocked to speak when he saw what she was doing with that one.

Jessie and her boys stopped by one afternoon after all the other puppies were gone. Her older son sulked against the doorframe, making it obvious that he was not there because he wanted to be. He had not tried anything else since the night he almost shot Tank, but Daryl had seen the little shit, sitting out on his porch and giving Rowan the dirtiest looks possible.

After giving Jessie some stupid kitchen spoon that she was pretending she had come over to borrow, Rowan plucked up the runty pup and set it down in the lap of Jessie's younger son Sam. The boy was excited of course and started petting and hugging the small dog right away. Jessie reached over, giving the pup a few gentle pets. Daryl saw her glance at Rowan with a funny look on her face. The two of them were up to something, he could smell it. But since it didn't involve him, Daryl just leaned back on the couch and watched.

"Who is taking this dog?," Jessie asked. Her voice sounded funny, like she was play acting.

"No one wants this one. He's the runt," Rowan said, trying to sound sad. Daryl had to cover his smile by pretending to itch the hair in his chin. Rowan was the worst fucking liar he had ever seen. "I don't know what we are going to do with him." Rowan glanced over at Ron, the sullen teenager, to make sure he was listening before she really laid it on thick. "I think it might be best to just leave him out in the woods and let the walkers have him."

Now Daryl had to bite down in his lip to keep from laughing. There was no way in this universe or any other that Rowan would ever leave one of Lily's puppies out in the woods for walkers to eat. This little act she was putting on was getting more far fetched by the second.

"Oh mom," Sam said, a look of complete sadness on his face, "can't we take him?"

"I don't think so Sam," Jessie said. Another lie, Daryl thought. Jessie was leaving here with that runt dog or his name wasn't Daryl Dixon. "I don't have time to take care of a dog and you are way too young for that much responsibility."

"But mom," Sam whined. He hugged the puppy closer, pressing the puppy's little wet nose to his face, "I can do it."

It was fairly obvious by this time that Sam's older brother was having a little war with himself. He was trying his hardest to pretend he had no interest in the puppy or the conversation that was going on, but it was obvious that he really wanted to get involved. He crossed his arms, uncrossed them, then did the same with his legs. Finally he was unable to stand his brother's begging any longer. He stomped over and snatched the dog up into his arms.

"You can't even take care of a goldfish," he informed his younger brother.

"Ron," Jessie said, "I'm really not sure if you are responsible enough for a pet either."

"The hell I'm not," the boy argued. This was going better than Rowan thought it would and now she was sitting back, trying to hide the smile on her face.

"You would have to feed him and walk him," she told the young man. "And if you want him to listen to you, you have to train him with dog treats." Rowan said all that like there was no way in the world she thought Ron would be capable of such tasks.

"I can do all that," Ron insisted. He was really hugging the dog now, petting it and letting it lick his face. He turned back to his mom, waiting to see what she was going to say.

"Alright Ron," Jessie said, acting like he was really inconviencing her, "Let's take him home then. If he has an accident in the house, you are going to have to clean it up." Rowan gave Jessie a little wink and let her know she would bring a bag of dog food over for them later. Daryl was thanking god when the door finally closed behind them. He could not have held his laughter in for another second. Rowan plopped down on his lap, laughing along with him and tickling his ribs.

"What was all that about?," he asked her. She smiled, kissing along his neck as she quietly explained it all to him. Ron had been full of anger and sadness since his father died. Jessie thought a puppy might help him heal, make him understand that what happened had been his father's fault and not the fault of Rowan's dog. All Tank had been doing was his job, protecting Rowan. But Rowan still felt terrible about what happened to the boys' father. She had been eager to help Jessie in any way she could. And in this case, that meant taking part in a little harmless trickery.

By the time she got done with her little story, Rowan had Daryl's shirt unbuttoned and pushed open. She was pressing soft kisses across his stomach, dipping the tip of her finger under the waistband of his pants. Not wanting things to go any further on the couch with the front door unlocked, Daryl got up and headed for the stairs, pulling her along behind him.

All winter long, Rowan had been bundling herself up in what seemed like endless piles of blankets, scarves and thick pairs of fleece pajama pants. Sometimes she looked like nothing more than a pretty little face peeking out from a mountain of blankets. Now that it was warmer, she was in a cutoff t-shirt and had tied on one of her long scarves as a skirt. All day long Daryl had been watching her as she moved, like he had forgotten how long and shapely her legs were.

Rowan sat down on the bed, smiling when she noticed Daryl locking the bedroom door. Since they had started living in the same house with her father, he had been very dilligent about maintaining their privacy. She had forgotten how shy he could be sometimes. Just as she had when she was first getting to know him, Rowan found his almost demure behavior incredibly appealing.

He meant to take his time, but making love to Rowan always seemed to take on a life of it's own. Neither of them were ever in control of it. Once he had his hands on the creamy white skin of her thighs, it had been over almost before it began. She was limp in his arms now, nuzzling her nose into the soft skin behind his ear. Yet another good thing about the warmer weather, they could lay together a while on top of the blankets instead of having to dive under them as soon as they got finished. Which meant he could look at her instead of only being able to feel her under the blankets.

"Ya like playin' with yer brother," Daryl mentioned. Rowan had her eyes closed and she had been thinking about taking a short nap, trying not to worry about what the puppy would do to the house while she slept.

"Huh?," she asked. Daryl sounded like he was making a great effort to keep his tone casual. His comment was random and not a topic of conversation that would usually be brought up after they just got done having sex. Rowan felt a little confused.

"Ya like havin' Falcon around," Daryl added, already starting to regret having said anything.

"Course I do, but we can go back out to stay at the trailer soon if you want to," Rowan said. She liked staying with her father, but being out at the trailer had it's advantages. More privacy.

"No we can stay here," Daryl said. Rowan was usually so good at knowing what he was thinking, but this time she was really off base. Whether they stayed here or at the trailer had not been on Daryl's mind. He had been looking down at the soft curve of Rowan's hips and thinking again about a baby.

Rowan lifted her head up off his chest, looking at Daryl's face. She had been feeling it on and off all winter. He was hiding something from her. Rowan had considered asking him about it, but changed her mind and decided to let Daryl tell her when he was ready. That moment had almost come just a few seconds ago, but then he had clammed back up again. But she had gotten a tiny glimpse this time. Before he shut back down she had looked into his eyes. She had seen the love and yearning there. And when Rowan lay back down against Daryl's chest, she had a secret of her own to keep.


	60. Epilogue 2

Springtime Part Two

"You haven't even showered yet?," Jessie asked. Her hands were on her hips, a bag of hair products and cosmetics buldging open and dangling from her shoulder. The look of horror on her face was palpable. And it made Rowan want to burst out laughing. The wedding was not for almost another hour. Which as far as she was concerned meant she had at least fourty five more minutes before she needed to start getting ready.

With Rowan's attention elsewhere, the not so small anymore white puppy darted in and snagged a large chunk of the deer Rowan and her father were butchering up on the table in their backyard. Her father started cursing, chasing after the dog and trying to make him drop the stolen meat.

"Morgan!," he shouted at the dog, "Get back here!" He grabbed for the naughty dog, who of course dodged out of the way at the last minute. Morgan the dog liked many things, but his favorite activites were stealing food and being chased. If both activites were happening at the same time, it was all the better. "Touched by Gaia my ass, dumb dog, you are about to be touched by the back of my hand," her father mumbled under his breath as he made another grab for the dog and missed again.

"Dad, just let him have it," Rowan said, unable to contain her laughter. The puppy drove her father crazy. No matter where the man went, the dog was underfoot with it's skinny giraffe legs and giant paws. It followed him everywhere, darting between his legs and tripping him as often as possible. He had to keep his bedroom door shut to keep the dog from sneaking out of Rowan's room and climbing not only into his bed, but under the covers between him and his wife. "It's ruined now anyway." And it was just a hunk of leg meat that she was going to feed to Morgan and the other dogs even if he had not run away with it.

Tank got up from where he had taken up his normal watch, in a nice shady spot on the porch. He trotted over and snarled at the younger dog, nipping at his hind legs. Morgan dropped the meat and ran away to hide under the porch steps like the most unspeakable horrors in all the world had just been done to him. Rowan grabbed the slobbery chunk of meat and sliced it in half. One piece she gave to Tank. The other she took over for the sulking white puppy under the stairs. Lily was out with Daryl, Aaron and a few other men. They left to go fishing around dinner time the night before. Fishing, it seemed, was code for some sort of male bonding trip. Rowan noticed a large bottle of her moonshine was gone, so she guessed they had gone out to the bunker under the lake cabin. Hopefully they were not all still drunk when they got back.

"I changed my mind, I think I do want my neck trimmed...," Eric started saying to Jessie as he came around the side of the house. Then he saw Rowan, filthy dirty, and covered in what appeared to be the blood of an animal, practically crawling under the porch steps in the dirt to scratch the head of one of her dogs. And the damn dog was filthy too. His mouth fell open. Eric kept a tight hold on his dog's leash. He had given her a bath the night before. And brushed her fur until it was shiny and gleaming. Miss Marilyn was not going under the porch to wrestle Morgan. "Rowan!," he exclaimed in absolute horror, "you haven't even showered yet?"

Rowan stood up, brushing off her knees. She looked down at herself. Maybe she did look a little messy. But there was no reason for everyone to be making such a fuss. Once she got done helping her dad with the deer, she had been planning to wash up a little.

"Go," Eric told her, pointing towards the door to her house like he could not even stand to look at her, "get in the shower now. Right now. And wash your hair too, don't be gross." Rowan shrugged and headed inside the house. She did as she was told, and even gave her hair a scrub even though she already washed it the day before.

When she came out of the shower, she wrapped up in a big fluffy towel and headed downstairs. Jessie had a bunch of things lying around that looked more like instruments of torture than things that were used to make people prettier. And the kitchen was filled with girls that were getting ready for the wedding. Rowan was not sure where her father had gone, but she guessed as far away from this place as possible. Thankfully, he had taken Morgan the dirty dog with him, which just left Tank, who was watching the activity from under the kitchen table.

"What was the point of washing my hair if you are just going to smear a bunch of crap in it," Rowan asked as Jessie yanked a comb through her tangled mass of hair.

"Cooperate and stop complaining," Eric told her. Rowan made a little huff noise and tried to relax her shoulders. She resigned herself to let Jessie do whatever she felt needed to be done, only drawing the line when the woman started trying to paint her face. It was fine for the other girls, but makeup reminded Rowan of war paint, and she did not want her face to look like a mask. Eric sat next to her, already looking handsome as ever. His hair was cut shorter than she had seen it before and he was wearing a white button down shirt that hung nicely off his slim shoulders. They held hands and passed a small mason jar of wine back and forth between them. Rowan only took small sips of it, she didn't want to get drunk.

"You look so handsome," Rowan told him, the tears already starting to well up in her eyes. Eric grabbed a napkin and dabbed gently at the corners of his own eyes.

"Do not start with the tears already Roe," he warned her. She wiped at her own eyes and got up from the stool she was sitting on to let Carol sit down. Carol didn't need her hair done, she had Judith in her lap. The little girl was already dressed in her best, a little pink dress that tied at the waist with a pink ribbon. She even had tiny little dress shoes on that were silver and sparkly. Jessie used the smallest iron she had to put a few curls in the little girl's hair before she pinned a small white flower on one side of her head. When she was done, Carol let the little girl down so she could toddle around the kitchen and impress everyone with how precious she looked. Judith headed straight for Tank and crawled under the table to sit next to him. She wrapped her arms around the dog, leaning in to bury her face in his fur. When Carol checked on her a few minutes later she was asleep.

Eric went upstairs with Rowan while she got her dress on. It was not something she would have chosen for herself, Eric picked it out for her. Like Judith's dress it was pink, and tightly fitted in the waist. Rowan thought the dress might look silly on her, but with the way Jessie had her hair pinned up, and standing next to Eric, who had a pink flower pinned to his white shirt, she decided she rather liked the way she looked. Like she was dressed up in costume as someone much more elegant and glamorous than her real self. She still had her crystal necklace on, and it hung down, the tip of it almost brushing her breasts since the bra she was wearing was pushing the tops of them up and out of the dress.

Now it was Eric's turn to start getting emotional. He hugged her against his chest, not caring at the moment if it rumpled them both. Rowan pulled back, holding him at arm's length. She cupped his face in her palm and leaned in to give him one soft chaste kiss on the lips.

"I just want to wish you all the happiness in the world," she told him, "even though I know you already found it." Before he could answer her, there was a soft knock on the frame of the open door. Deanna had come up to let them know everyone was ready. It was time. When they passed back through the main floor of the house, it felt eerily quiet compared to the bustle of actvity that had been going on down there about fifteen minutes before. Tank was sitting by the door, next to Eric's dog. Someone had tied pink ribbons around both of their necks and it made Rowan feel like she was ready to laugh and cry at the same time. A feeling she knew was going to carry throughout the day.

Grabbing the basket of long pink ribbons, Rowan started out the door first. She handed one out to each person that was gathered around in the middle of the street, waiting for the ceremony to start. Then she took her place next to Eric, who was looking like he might faint, barf and possibly explode with happiness all at the same time. She put one hand on his shoulder, sending him all the calming energy she could. Then she clasped her hands in front of her. Daryl was a few feet away, standing on the other side of Aaron. He had been persuaded to take part in the wedding, as long as he didn't have to say anything or wear a pink shirt.

They had not seen each other since the day before, and sleeping with just the dogs had made Rowan feel lonelier than she had expected. The corners of her lips curled up and she bit at her bottom lip to keep from smiling too big and goofy. She could feel the very appreciative glance Daryl was giving her. His eyes started all the way down at her pink polish toes and moved up her body. By the time he got back up to her face, she could feel herself blushing pink under the freckles that covered her body.

Deanna cleared her throat and started talking. The ceremony was like everything Deanna did, quick and to the point but not without flourish. Rowan listened as Aaron and Eric said the vows they had written for each other, tears starting to fill her eyes. She was so happy for them, she felt like she might burst. And she was excited for the party that was going to come after the wedding ceremony. She had been to a lot of gay weddings, back in the community where she grew up, and they always had more and better dancing than any other type of wedding. It had been so long since she had danced, she was worried she might remember how.

Rowan stepped forward, swallowing the lump in her throat. It was her turn to talk now. And her words had to count for her and Daryl. So she had memorized a special poem. She held out the long pink ribbon in her hands and tied it around the joined hands of the two men. She made an effort to speak loud and clear so that the people near the back of the small crowd would be able to hear her.

"Love is giving, not taking. Mending, not breaking. Trusting, believing, never deceiving. Patiently bearing and faithfully sharing. Each joy, each sorrow, today and tomorrow. Love is a king. Understanding, but never demanding. Love is constant. Prevailing, its strength never failing. A promise once spoken for all time unbroken. Love's time is forever." By the time she got done, Rowan's voice was thick with emotion. Aaron and Eric both moved forward to hug her and got tangled up because their hands were tied together. That was the point of a handbinding, to teach the new couple that they would need to compromise and work together in order to make their marriage work.

Rowan felt Daryl's hand go around her waist, drawing her back to give everyone else room to step up and tie on their own ribbon. Some people, like Rowan, had memorized something special to say, while some said nothing and others just wished the couple general good luck and happiness. Rowan's father recited native american wedding vow, one of Rowan's favorites. When he was done, he walked over to hug and kiss her on the cheek before he took a spot next to her and Daryl to watch.

"You look like your mother," he told her. Rowan smiled. Her father did not hand out compliments often, at least not ones that had to do with her appearance. She knew he meant what he said, and also that maybe he was a little sad, thinking about her mother and how badly he had wanted to marry her back when he found out she was pregnant with Rowan. Her mother had said no. Rowan never told her father, but her mother always said that she had wanted to marry him just as much, but he was so young at the time she didn't feel it would be fair to him.

Once the formal part of the wedding was over, it was time for food, drinks, music and dancing. There was even a white cake, made by Olivia and decorated by Enid. She had done a beautiful job too, Rowan knew just the tiny pink icing flowers alone had taken the girl a whole day to make. It was so pretty, Rowan thought it was almost a shame that people were going to eat it. Her thoughts about the beauty of the cake did not stop her from getting a piece, which she ate with her fingers, dropping chocolate crumbs down the front of her pink party dress. She noticed several people laughing as they looked in her direction. Rowan thought at first that they were poking fun at her expense, until she looked down and saw little Judith was standing next to her, in her matching pink dress, eating her cake in the exact same manner.

Rowan laughed and leaned down to scoop the messy little girl up into her arms, holding her until Michonne showed up with a damp cloth to mop her up before she took her back to the blanket they were sitting on. Rowan watched them go, thinking that from the way Michonne was walking she was going to have two babies to chase around soon enough.

Tony was at the edge of their picnic blanket, squatting down to talk with Rick. Rowan bit her lip to keep from laughing. Since Michonne was in a family way, she had been taken off active duty as a part of Alexandria's police force. Tony had been the head of security at a casino before the turn, so Deanna had suggested he take the job. Today was the first time he was going to be left fully in charge, while Rick enjoyed the wedding, and he was approaching the task with what Rowan considered to be a very over the top level of seriousness. He even had his usual wild mohawk hair slicked back into a ponytail.

"Get any of it in your mouth?," Daryl asked her, sliding one arm around her waist and looking at the cake crumb mess that was spilled down her front. Rowan laughed and shook out her dress, trying to brush off some of the crumbs. She had a little smear of frosting at the corner of her mouth and he wiped at it with his thumb before he kissed her. Without asking him first, Rowan pulled him out, towards the small area where people were dancing. At least the song was slow. Daryl was an awkward dancer, but she liked how close he held her, one arm around her waist and the other hand up near the back of her neck. She pressed her cheek against his, tilting her head back so she could whisper into his ear.

"Are you ready to give it to me yet?," she asked.

"Huh?," he said, pulling his head back. He was more than ready, but he was not going to be giving her anything here in front of all these people.

"Not that," she said, a small giggle bubbling out of her, "the ring you have hidden in your pants pocket." He stopped dancing, but his arms were still around her. His mouth fell open, then he quickly snapped it closed. She saw the little lightning flashes of red light up around his head, like they did when he was making love to her.

"No fair mind reading," he informed her. Now he was smiling too.

"I didn't," Rowan announced with much indignity. She had been seeing his desires and wishes for them in her dreams, but that didn't count, she couldn't help it. And that was not how she found out about the ring anyway.

"Yer dad tell ya?," Daryl asked. She shook her head. She didn't even know her dad was aware of what was going on, but it made her happy to know that he was included.

"Eric," she said, "he kept making such a fuss about my nails being painted, in case anyone wanted to look at my hands..." Rowan had guessed at the rest and gone digging through the case Daryl kept his weapons in. She never touched that stuff, so she figured if Daryl had something he wanted to hide from her, that's where it would be. Stuffed down inside his bucket of extra crossbow bolts, she found the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. It had a sparkly stone in the middle, clear like her crystal, and the band around it was a filigree of gold that looked just the tattoos she had on her hands. She would have been happy with anything that Daryl gave her, since it came from the heart, but getting something pretty made what was perfect even that much better. Waiting for him to pick the time to give it to her had been absolute agony.

"...was supposed to be a surprise," Daryl mumbled, unable to keep a straight face while he was looking at the excited expression on Rowan's face. She looked like a kid on christmas morning. Then her facial expression changed, becoming the look she gave him when they were about to start taking their clothes off. He felt a twitch in his pants and had to remind himself that they were in a very public place. Rowan leaned in and kissed him hard on the mouth.

"I have a better surprise," she said, pressing close and starting to move her feet like they were dancing again. "You know that tea I drink to keep from getting pregnant?" Daryl did not answer her question, but she felt the muscles in his arms tense up where she was touching him. "The day we gave away the last puppy I stopped drinking it." Her moon time was only a few weeks late, which didn't always mean pregnancy, but when she read her own tarot looking for an answer, she had gotten the Sun crossing the Empress. When it came to signs, they didn't get much clearer than that. She was going to be having a baby late in the fall or early next winter.

"Hold on," Daryl said, stopping the dancing a second time and pulling his head back so he could see her face. Then he looked down over her body, thinking about the little changes he had noticed about her that he had written off as part of his overactive imagination. She had been sleeping longer and harder. She had been acting picky about her food too, and Rowan usually wolfed down anything that was put in front of her and sometimes even ate the gross jerky that they used as treats for the dogs. She had been drinking iced tea instead of wine or cider with her dinner. And the last time they were alone together, he had sworn her boobs felt bigger. "Yer knocked up, I mean... um, yer already pregnant?," he asked her.

"Yep," she said, nodding her head and watching Daryl's face to see what he thought about it. He grabbed her hard, pulling her against him and lifting her up off the ground. Then he set her quickly back down on her feet like he had done something wrong. Should be more careful with her now that she's got a baby in her, he thought, scolding himself a little. He hugged her again, more gently this time.

"Can I still have my ring?," she asked, hugging him back. Daryl laughed, at himself this time. He had forgotten all about the damn ring. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled the ring out and quickly slid it over her finger so he could gather her into his arms again. He forgot all about his elaborate plans to get down on one knee and say the stupid speech he had been mumbling to himself for the last two weeks as he tried to memorize it. Later, when they were lying in bed together, he would realize he never even asked her to marry him.

The song changed to something too fast for Daryl to dance to. So he led Rowan over to a small cluster of chairs away from the main gathering area. He needed a few moments to get himself together, and he guessed maybe she did too. The excitement of telling everyone their joyful news would come soon enough, but for now Daryl just wanted a private moment with her. He pulled two chairs close together and they sat down. Now that they were away from the bustle of activity, Lily and Tank ran over to join them. Rowan patted the dogs and made sure to show them her ring like they were people that would be as impressed with it as she was. Lily just sniffed her hand looking for food, but Daryl could have sworn Tank actually looked at the small piece of jewelry like he was giving his approval.

From where they were sitting, Rowan could see the whole wedding party happening. She could see everyone. All her people. There were times when she still missed the area she had grown up in, but she had finally come to know that this place, Alexandria, was her real home. And these people were her family.

She could see them all now. Aaron was smiling at Eric as he adjusted the collar of his shirt for him. Reg, he was dancing with Deanna and smiling over at Rowan with such a joyful expression on his face. She knew then, he must have heard her and Daryl's conversation while they were dancing. Olivia was laughing at something Eugene said to her while she sliced up the rest of the cake and put it on little plates for people to come and grab.

A few of the puppies ran through, trampling over picnic blankets and making it so Carl and Enid both scrambled back out of the way. Rick was sitting with Michonne, rubbing his hand over her swollen belly as she kicked her shoes off into the grass. Jessie was dancing with her older son, and while he didn't look too happy about it, he also no longer had the hollow angry look he had after his father died.

Over near the sidewalk, Spencer was asking Rosie if he could hold her baby in an obvious attempt to have an excuse to talk to her. And Rowan saw her father. Having him back was what made her happiness complete. With his small son in his lap and Morgan the dog next to him sitting still as a statue, he had all the kids in town gathered around him on the grass. Rowan couldn't hear what he was saying, but she could tell from the rapt attention on their little faces that whatever story he was telling them was a good one. Maybe it was even the story of the two wolves. That one had been a favorite of Rowan's when she was a little girl.

The story was a little different each time it was told. But always it was about a man that had two wolves inside of him. One wolf lived in harmony with all those around him and fought for what was right, while the other wolf was full of anger, hatred and greed. There were different events in the story that would cause the wolves to fight inside the man. That part of the story would vary from telling to telling. But the story would end the same way, with her father telling her that everyone has these wolves battling inside them all the time. The wolf that wins is always the one you feed.

 **** The poem My Promise was used in this chapter, the author is only listed as Anon. The tale of the two wolves is a widely known native american legend, so I don't think there's any author I can give credit to on that either. Thank you again to everyone that read and everyone that took the time to leave a review. Merry Christmas and a Happy Winter Solstice to you all and I hope you enjoyed my story. ****


	61. Preview of The Wolf You Feed

The Wolf You Feed

Chapter One

 **** Under Your Spell had been my most popular story so to date, so I decided I really wanted to make a sequel. This story is picking up about a month or two after the end of the last. Rowan decided she needed to see her home one last time before she got too far along in her pregnancy. Since there was a chance they might find a lot of useful supplies there, Daryl agreed to take her. Carl and Enid are traveling with them, along with some familiar animal friends and some new ones.**

 **I am posting the first chapter here, but the rest will be in the story The Wolf You Feed. I know a lot of people are just following me as an author now, but if you could follow the story too so I know how many readers I have that would be amazing. As always read, enjoy and review. I own nothing from the Walking Dead or the novel The Plains of Passage, sections of which served as my inspiration for this story. Some plot points will be similar, but the words and original characters are all mine. ****

Tank and Morgan came dashing out of the woods, covered in mud and muck from whatever fresh mess they had managed to entangled themselves in this time. Rolling on top of dead walkers to cover themselves in the scent was a favorite pastime for both animals. Rowan felt the soft rush of air on the side of her neck as Daryl breathed an audible sigh. The dogs constantly getting dirty and smelling terrible wouldn't bother him so much if Rowan didn't give in to Tank's whining and let them both crowd inside their tiny tent every night.

"Maybe we can find a creek to swim in before we stop for the night," Rowan suggested. Daryl held the reigns in one hand but he used the other to pull her closer to him. His hand dipped under the loose fabric of her shirt, the rough pads of his fingers grazing over her stomach. He could only tell the difference in her body when she was naked. A small hard lump just above the silky hair between her legs. But even with her clothes on, he knew what was there. His baby, growing strong and healthy inside her.

She was used to the movements of the horse by now. The way the animal's back rose and fell as it walked, pressing their bodies closer together and then a little further apart. The insides of Daryl's strong thighs touching the curve of her hips. They walked some of the time, to give the horses a break. And they also took turns riding. But her favorite was riding double with Daryl behind her. She felt secure in his arms.

Carl and Enid were riding double on the other horse. Comet. They named the animal for how fast he could run. Comet was a young stallion, light tan in color. His mane and tail were even lighter in color than the rest of him. On his back, Enid rode behind Carl, his beat up sheriff's hat on her head to keep the sun off her face. She had her arms around his waist, her long legs dangling down behind his, which were resting in the stirrups. Her chin was resting on his shoulder. Rowan smiled. She knew the two of them liked to whisper to each other while they rode.

The horses showed no signs of getting overly tired yet. But as Rowan glanced over at the other couple and the large saddlebags attached to either side of their horse, she felt a smidge of guilt for riding double on horses that were already carrying so much for them. She leaned forward, smoothing down the mane of her horse and giving her a friendly pat on the neck, the stone in her wedding ring catching the sunlight and sending out millions of tiny sparkles into the air.

"Good girl Molly," she told the animal, who returned her affections with a high pitched whinny. She leaned back into Daryl's chest. "Do you think we ought to get down and walk a while?"

"Soon," he told her. He didn't want to tire the horses out either, but they were sturdy animals. He was letting Molly walk at a pace she was comfortable with. She would be alright to carry them a while longer before she started to get tired. And he liked riding double with Rowan. He could smell her hair and rub his hands over her legs and stomach.

The first few days it was him and not Molly that needed a break from riding double. Having a hard-on inside his jeans and being jostled around by a horse for hours was about as uncomfortable as it sounded like it might be. He had almost rubbed his business raw before he figured out he better try and keep control of what he was thinking about while they were riding together. This was easier planned than accomplished, especially with her firm backside pressed right up on his dick, rubbing against it everytime the horse took a step.

Her shirts and sleeping attire were still loose and baggy. But since they were doing so much riding, Rowan had taken to wearing either a fitted pair of jeans or a thick pair of fringed buckskin pants, also fitted. The sight of her, all wrapped up in clothes that actually hugged the curves of her hips and ass had really been doing a number on him. She had been trying to gain a little weight since she found out she was pregnant, and he swore every extra bite of food she ate went straight to her damn tits. He would have never guessed that a pregnant woman's body would look so appealing to him, and honestly it made him feel almost bad. Like he was some kind of pervert. Not bad enough to stop looking though. She was his wife after all. He could look at her all her liked.

Done with their exploring for the time being, Tank and Morgan trotted along on either side of the large black horse that Rowan and Daryl were riding. Then Morgan decided he wanted to be on the other side, near Tank. instead of walking around behind Molly, he darted across in front of her, making the horse balk and almost stumble. Daryl gritted his teeth, trying not to get angry at the giant dog that was still technically just a very big puppy.

"I'm sorry we couldn't bring Lily," Rowan said, wrapping one of her slim hands over the tops of his as they relaxed over the reigns again. Daryl felt the anger rush out of him as quickly as it had come. _Rowan feeds the good wolf._ He smiled, wondering how she always seemed to know just what he was thinking. He had spent so much time training Lily. She was his favorite hunting partner and he had been excited to take her out on the road with them. But the day before they were ready to leave, Lily had gone into heat. He supposed he ought to be glad it didn't happen out on the road, but it was still disapointing not to have her along.

Rowan's father agreed to watch Lily and keep her away from the other dogs until her heat was over. With one condition. That they take Morgan with them. The big white dog drove the man crazy. So now instead of being on the road with his well trained hunting dog, they were on the road with an obnoxious puppy that seemed to find some new way to be annoying about every five seconds.

"Listen," Carl said, waking Enid from the state of half sleep she had been in resting against his back. Her head popped up and she adjusted the hat on her head. "I think I hear water."

Rowan cocked her head to one side. She didn't hear anything at first, but once she concentrated on the sounds around them, she heard it as well. The quiet rushing noise of moving water. She could smell it too, just the subtle change in the air around them. Cooler and more moist than it had been a few minutes before.

"This way," Daryl called to Carl, nodding his head to the left. He started off the dirt covered road they had been walking on and into the woods. They found the sorce of the noise quickly. A waterfall that was rushing down from higher above, splashing into a small lagoon that led off into a smaller creek. With Rick and the others, he had driven through Virginia, heading North up from Georgia to get to DC. But they had stuck to main highways and roads as much as they could. Daryl didn't have much time to get a feel for the type of land they were passing through. Now he had plenty.

The first thing he realized was that they had been smart to bring the horses instead of riding bikes. Besides the fact that they were much quieter, the terrain here was no much more uneven than where he was from in Georgia. The horses could climb a rocky hill with packs on their backs, where taking the motorcycles up would have been a total nightmare. The plant life in the forest was slightly different, and even the types of squirrels varied from the ones he was used to. Despite the unfamiliar terrain, Daryl liked being out in the woods again. He felt like he could really breathe out here. Not that he minded living in Alexandria, but the small yards and big houses felt constricting.

"Think we should camp up top?," Carl asked. Daryl nodded. If walkers came at them, it would be much easier to deflect them off the top of the cliff than it would be to fight them with their backs against a wall. He swung down from his horse and then kept his hands on Rowan's lower back as she did the same. They walked from there, taking their time finding a way up to the top that was a gradual enough slope for the horses to climb.

The small group had packed and unpacked enough times in the last week that they could set up and tear down camp without a lot of talking. Everyone knew my now what their jobs were. Daryl got the tents popped up, while Rowan and Enid unpacked the horses. Carl took the dogs with him while he collected firewood. Then he dug out a small firepit and got a fire going. The girls got water from the small river that led to the waterfall and suspended it over the fire to boil.

They had travelling food. But there was no way to carry enough to last them the entire trip. So they had been living mostly off the land as they rode. When they broke camp that morning, Enid had spotted a flock of wild turkeys when she got up to pee. They had been lucky enough to snag two of them, so Daryl didn't need to go hunting after they set up camp. Instead he helped Carl spit the birds over the fire. They left them to roast while they washed up in the creek.

The girls bathed upstream from the boys, but they kept each other in sight for safety reasons. Rowan coaxed her dogs in, hoping some of the stink from whatever they had rolled in earlier in the day would rinse off. The horses needed no such encoragement. Freed from their bags and saddles, they drank from the moving water and rolled around in the shallows, scratching their backs and cooling themselves off.

Molly was prancing around, nipping at the dogs and at Comet. Tossing her wavy black mane and snorting. Rowan knew what her horse needed. A good run. She headed out of the river, pushing the water off her body with her hands and ringing out her hair. She pulled on a pair of underwear and one of the long loose tshirts that she wore around camp and slept in. Then she whistled for Molly.

The horse came rushing over and Rowan grabbed her mane, swinging herself up onto to horses bare back. Then she kicked her heels in and leaned forward, giving Molly the signal to run. The horse didn't need to be told twice. She took off at a full gallop, staying close to the edge of the shallow river at first, but then veering away once the woods opened up and there were not as many large trees in the way. Rowan clung to the horse, her thighs holding tight and her hands gripping the coarse black hair of her mane. She could feel her own hair, whipping in the wind and flying out behind her. When they finally slowed down, Tank was able to catch up with them. His tounge was hanging out the side of his mouth and he was panting.

"God damn it all," Daryl cursed. He hated, just hated when Rowan took off on the horse like that. He had told her what felt like about a million times not to do it. One of these days she was going to end up riding right into a herd of walkers. Carl was shaking his head and Enid was laughing. Morgan was still running around, snapping at the dragon flies that were buzzing around the river like he had no idea anything was even going on.

To Daryl's relief, Rowan came trotting back a few long minutes later. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide with excitement. With her long black hair, the same color as the black horse she was riding, she looked for a moment like some sort of mythical creature. A centaur. Half woman and half horse.

She used the pressure of her legs to guide the horse, leading it over until they were almost on top of Daryl. The way Rowan was looking at him made him realize he was standing there naked and he reached down to grab a pair of shorts out of his pack and pull them on.

"Come on," she said, extending her hand down to him, "you've got to see this." Before he knew what he was doing, Daryl found himself caught up in her enthusiasm for whatever she wanted to show him. He swung himself up onto the back of the horse, gripping her waist. Rowan signalled the horse to go, but a little slower this time. Daryl was not a fan of riding at full speed without a saddle, which made her smile since she knew he rode his motorcycle much faster and without a helmet.

When they neared the edge of the drop off, Rowan slowed the horse to a stop and swung her leg over Molly's head so she could drop to her feet. Once Daryl was down, she took his hand and pulled him towards the edge. Down in a grassy valley below, there was a whole herd of horses. Some of the older animals might have been domestic once, but now they were wild again.

"Look," Rowan said, pointing a finger, "there's even little baby horses." Daryl looked where she was pointing, seeing a few small horses mixed in with the herd. There was a small black and white patchy one that was easy to pick out from the rest due to it's distinct coloring. The horses were beautiful. Watching them gave Daryl a tingle down in the pit of his stomach. Happiness tingled with a weird guilt. _The outbreak made this possible._ Animals were taking back over, resuming their natural behaviors. This land was their's again. Just like Rowan was his. Without the outbreak, he never would have met her.

As Daryl slipped his arm around Rowan's waist, he felt the wind shift. The breeze carried Molly's scent down to the herd. Several of the horses popped their heads up, suddenly alert when a moment before they had been grazing peacefully on the grass. One large grey and white dappled horse seemed more interested than the rest. He reared up, snorting and trying to make himself look even bigger than he was.

"I bet that one's the lead stallion," Daryl said. His words made Rowan glance nervously at Molly, who seemed much more interested in the herd of horses below than she had been a few moments before. Her eyes were wide and she was flicking her tail, her ears flattened back against her head. Rowan approached the horse, running her hands over her soft hair to calm her. Then she wrapped her arms around the horses neck and hugged her. She felt Molly's leg come up, dragging her in closer as the horse leaned the head into her, hugging the woman back.

Tank started barking and then Rowan heard Daryl adding his voice to the racket. _That's right! Go on and git! Ain't stealin' my horse!_ While watching the horses had felt almost magical, Rowan was glad to see them go after that big male had been looking at Molly with such intensity. Not only did they need Molly, to ride on and carry their things, Molly was her friend. She didn't want to lose her to a herd.


End file.
